


Cross-Purpose

by skittyTail



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Violence, Business, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Ferdibert Endgame, Hubert is Repressed, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, They get together before the end but it Takes a While, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, frienemies to lovers, if youre worried about a love triangle there isnt one, it isnt enemies to lovers so much as...., modern-ish its like 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 127,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25869772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittyTail/pseuds/skittyTail
Summary: Ferdinand von Aegir is a privileged businessman living the life given to him by his fortunate circumstances when an unexpected transaction begins between his family's business and that of and old friend. In a clamor to save his family name, Ferdinand discovers a series of dark secrets that seem to point to a world that he never imagined could exist.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Lysithea von Ordelia (background), Ferdinand von Aegir & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Ferdinand von Aegir/Flayn, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 52
Kudos: 83





	1. Act 1 Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is looking to be quite a long work, from what I've done so far, so look forward to more chapters down the line! I initially intended to wait longer before starting to post this, but I pushed this first chapter up so that it could fit into Ferdibert Week!

“So. It appears we meet again, my most bitter of rivals. If it is an alliance you seek, I must preemptively say that the answer is assuredly, unequivocally no. I have achieved success perfectly fine all on my own, and I do not need you to besmirch--”

  
  


“Ferdinand, I need you to stop.”

  
  


Ferdinand rolled his eyes extravagantly enough for his golfing compatriots to see him from down the fairway. He gave them a wave, calling for them to carry on without them, as though they hadn’t already been puttering along to the next hole before Ferdinand had even picked up his cell phone.

  
  


“Fine,” said Ferdinand into the receiver, adjusting his cabby hat to shield him from the fervid rays of the midday sun. “What business do you have, then, my dear?”

  
  


There was some offense in Edelgard’s voice, which buzzed bitterly into Ferdinand’s ear. “Is it not within your expectations for me to call simply to keep in touch with an old friend?”

  
  


“If that is what you wish me to believe this is, I’m willing to suspend my disbelief that much.” Ferdinand propped his chin on the handle of his club as he watched the little carts scuttle across the sea of grass.

  
  


Ferdinand’s quip was just enough to bring a chuckle out of Edelgard. “To think that this world has jaded you so much, Ferdinand.”

  
  


Ferdinand scoffed from deep within his chest; it was the only way to effectively convey his indignation over the crackly airwaves of cellular communication. “Big words coming from the very woman who taught me to suspect everyone and everything.”

  
  


“Is that all you learned from me, truly? No lessons about seizing opportunities, or questioning your elders, or even _working_ _diligently_ to meet your ends?”

  
  


“I am working very hard, I’ll have you know.” Ferdinand cleared his throat and looked out across the green to his fellow sportsmen. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take the occasional break during the work day to let off steam. Before his mind could wander too far, Ferdinand yelped and dropped his club as a glint of sun from another’s swing landed square in his eyes and nearly blinded him.

  
  


“It sounds like you are,” remarked Edelgard. She puffed out a breath that fuzzed across the speaker. “I should apologized for calling at such a busy time of the day like this; it’s hard to make time around the office.”

  
  


The warmth of the sun was beginning to feel more like a hot burden across Ferdinand’s shoulders. “No worries at all. As you know, though I am very, very… busy, I can always find time to talk with the one and only match to my sheer excellence.”

  
  


“Right.” During Edelgard’s pause, Ferdinand took a moment to shift his phone to his other hand and wipe the sweat from his palm. “Ferdinand,” continued Edelgard. “Have you spoken at all with your father recently?”

  
  


Ferdinand blinked. “How recent is  _recently_ ?”

  
  


“Sometime in the past two days.”

  
  


Ferdinand stooped to pick his club off of the grass as he mentally retraced his steps through the week. It was rare that he would be able to talk to his father more than once or twice a month, as the man was hard to get a hold of even when Ferdinand was  _at_ the office. “No, I can’t say I have,” said Ferdinand. “Why?”

  
  


“No reason,” said Edelgard. “Anyway, I would like to catch up with you after so long, Ferdinand. When are you available this weekend?”

  
  


When was he  _not_ available? Ferdinand’s week was so open that he would be able to meet up with Edelgard every day until next Monday, twice a day. Humming loudly in a show of just how much of a struggle it ought to be to fit Edelgard into his prolific schedule, Ferdinand waited some time before offering an answer. “Hm, I might be able to make space on Saturday; what say you to drinks at, oh...” he paused to click his tongue and run an imaginary finger down an imaginary calendar. “Eight-thirty? Though I must ask that we take it easy, as my Sunday morning is  _packed._ ”

  
  


“Excellent,” replied Edelgard. “How gracious of you to fit me in.”

  
  


Ferdinand shrugged and put a perky smile into his voice. “What can I say? I’ve always got time for you, my dear rival.”

  
  


“Of course.”

  
  


The two bid their farewells, and, with a clack, Ferdinand shut his cell phone. Finally, something worth paying attention to. In his mind, he picked out which days in the coming week he would spend popping by to his office so that he could have some work talk to use with Edelgard. He suspected that she wouldn’t be particularly excited to hear about how much he’d lowered his average on hole eight.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It took Ferdinand some time to pick out a spot to seat himself at along the glittering bar. He needed to look just right to an oncoming Edelgard. Approachable, yet preoccupied. Professional, but down to earth. He considered pretending to take a phone call to appear especially busy, forcing Edelgard to get his attention when she arrived. But he wasn’t sure if that would be a step too far in the direction of abject rudeness. 

  
  


Eventually, after much deliberating and pacing the length of the bar, Ferdinand chose a stool on the corner where the grandiose crystal chandelier made the bar’s spit-shine surface sing. Content with his choice, he folded his hands, checked his watch, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, fixed his hair, and when he checked his watch a second time, it was still barely past 7:30. He certainly couldn’t fault himself for being too prepared.

  
  


Ferdinand drummed his fingers on the bar for a few more minutes before ordering something to help him along. He put out a vague order to the tender: something smooth and expensive. He could take his time nursing the little glass in front of him and still be plenty alert by the time Edelgard arrived. Taking his drink and swirling it, Ferdinand soaked up the atmosphere. Smears of light bounced off of the copious swaths of reflective materials. Every surface, it seemed, was another spot to catch the glow of a sconce or chandelier.

  
  


Under the glimmering lights, clusters of well-dressed, well-composed patrons mingled with one another. He couldn’t help the sensation he had of being out of place among these seemingly successful people. Like he’d managed to trick them into thinking that he was one of them just by presenting himself in a certain way.

  
  


A cold washed over Ferdinand. He chased it off with a sip of his drink, just warm enough in his insides to put him back to some semblance of normalcy.

  
  


As Ferdinand partook in his people-watching, his attention was grabbed by the unusual form that swept into the airy room. Where lights bounced everywhere, this dark-clad being acted as a black hole that gobbled all of that up. So too did Ferdinand’s focus get sucked in, following the ill-fitting figure as it stalked in, peered around, and approached the bar as if floating on air. The graceful, fluid movements came to a sudden hiccup as the form looked across Ferdinand, attempted to continue past him, and double-took it right back at him.

  
  


Ferdinand suddenly felt horrendously guilty for staring so openly when he realized that he was being stared back at. He attempted to cope with it the way any well-put-together person would deal with making unwanted, intense eye contact with a stranger: he pretended to look at something very interesting just past the figure’s shoulder and then promptly, gracefully, returned to his drink. Crisis averted. Now, he and this stranger could simply go about their evenings and pretend that nothing uncomfortable had ever happened. Ferdinand sipped his drink judiciously and patted himself on the back for having the grace to maneuver these sorts of events. The only thing that could possibly undermine that move would be if, for some reason, the stranger seated himself right next to Ferdinand.

  
  


With a glance out of the corner of his eye, Ferdinand could see that the stranger hadn’t actually sat  _right_ next to him. There was one empty spot between them. But that didn’t change the fact that the sheer imposing energy coming off of the figure made Ferdinand feel as though he might suffocate at even that distance. Surely, if one were seated one spot away from the Grim Reaper, it would be pertinent to be equally as concerned as if he were in the adjacent seat?

  
  


Ferdinand couldn’t decided if his best course of action was to pretend that no one was there, or to ask what the deal was, or to hurry out of the bar and never look back. He had to pick something soon, lest he appear too rude, but he was drawing a complete blank on which way to go.

  
  


“Are you here alone, or are you waiting for someone?”

  
  


Ferdinand stopped short, eyes fixed on the bottom of his nearly empty glass. Had distress driven him to drink? More importantly, had the living embodiment of death just asked him an inane question? He wondered if he had much time left on this mortal plane. He asked the bartender for a refill.

  
  


“Erm, I’m waiting for someone,” Ferdinand finally said, shifting awkwardly in his stool.

  
  


When he hazarded a look at the stranger, he was nodding the slightest bit to himself. “It appeared so,” was all he said.

  
  


A quiet set in after that, or at least the closest to quiet that a busy, upscale bar could get. Ferdinand tried to pace himself more with this new glass of… whatever it was that he’d gotten. Maybe it was a Vieux Carr é ? Whatever it was, it was the only ally he had in this trying moment. Between tiny sips, Ferdinand tried to piece together an image of the man next to him with a series of short, unseeming glances in his direction. Dark hair. Deep set eyes. Fine brows, cheekbones, and a defined cupid’s bow. Unique, but rather unnerving. Ferdinand wasn’t sure if the presence of skin was truly enough to rule out the possibility of his being a dark spirit of some kind. Or an alien. That would explain the intensity with which the man studied the glass of water he ordered before drinking from it.

  
  


Ferdinand cleared his throat after some time. He felt obligated to carry on the conversation at this point. “How about you?”

  
  


The man observed Ferdinand with the same suspicion that had just been directed at his water. “If you must know, it’s just myself,” he said, his voice low enough to make Ferdinand feel as though he was being let in on a secret. “I am only in for a spell.”

  
  


“A spell,” Ferdinand repeated into his glass. “I must say, in that case, water is an odd choice.”

  
  


“I didn’t much feel like impeding my  judgment tonight,” said he. 

  
  


It wasn’t until the man turned to fully glare at Ferdinand that he realized that he’d snorted rather loudly at that answer. Ferdinand felt pinned in place by the stare.

  
  


“Pardon me?” came the icy words from the stranger.

  
  


Ferdinand gulped down his drink to slow down his galloping heart. It was one thing to fumble an interaction with a stranger at the bar, but Ferdinand was truly making a complete fool of himself in front of one of the most frightening people he’d ever seen. “It’s just that, you know.” Ferdinand’s words tumbled from his lips like he’d forgotten how to choose them on the way out. “Why are you even here, then? You do know that this is a bar, right? What are you doing here ordering something that you could have gotten at the corner store for, what, five, ten dollars? What is this for? It isn’t like you’re here for the company.”

  
  


“Well, I suppose--”

  
  


“I mean, if you’ll excuse me, you kind of converse like a dead fish. So far, at least. Is it that you get by on being ominous enough that no one questions you? That can’t be a good thing to rely on.” Somewhere along the way, Ferdinand had churned through most of his second glass.

  
  


“I think you’ll find I’m at least doing better than some entitled little--” The man cut himself off with a fiendish growl. “Well. What exactly is it that you suggest I use to, how do you put it?  _Get by?_ ” For a brief moment, the man wasn’t a complete void of light, as a glint flashed across his eyes when he questioned Ferdinand. Though the disdain in his voice wasn’t able to completely break through the alcohol clogging Ferdinand’s perception, the unexpected fierceness in his eyes caught Ferdinand off-guard.

  
  


Ferdinand smirked at the thought that he had managed to crack into the steely exterior of the man. “Well, I personally rely on my charm and good looks,” Ferdinand cooed, brushing his hair over his shoulder in his most reliable  onslaught of natural beauty and enticing fragrance. He had to suppress a giggle of delight when he saw the man fully recoil from him. 

  
  


“Now,” continued Ferdinand. “I don’t know about charm, but you could really improve your aesthetics if you would shed this damned pelt of inky blackness.” He found himself impressed by how much more pleasant the man looked with his shoulders reduced, his heavy coat hanging half off of him…

  
  


It took the shock of a hand clamping around Ferdinand’s wrist for him to realize that he’d actually reached drunkenly across the middle seat to grab hold of those gloomy lapels and attempt to shuck the stranger’s outer layer. In the roundabout, dizzy reasoning of his drunken mind, Ferdinand had been sure that this man would appreciate the helpful hand of a friend giving him fashion advice. Or perhaps this had been a clumsy attempt at flirting. He couldn’t recall.

  
  


Ferdinand gasped as a thumb pressed against his palm, loosening his grip on the heavy coat. He noticed that the man was wearing gloves in the thick of the summer months, only adding to his strangeness. As Ferdinand allowed his hands to be peeled away, a tiny piece of something came with. A button? A piece of jewelry? Whatever it was, Ferdinand hastily pocketed it to reduce the potential of angering the man. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

  
  


A bitter, crisp scent came off of the stranger’s sleeves as he released Ferdinand, almost intense enough to pull him from his alcoholic stupor. “I think,” hissed the man, shrugging his coat back onto his shoulders. “I am perfectly fine with how I present myself, thank you very much.” Ferdinand wasn’t sure, but he thought that he glimpsed something resembling a smirk hidden in the creases of his pale face. Maybe, if he lucked out, the walking omen of death would be willing to just laugh off Ferdinand’s misdemeanor.

  
  


“If you say so,” Ferdinand said as he teetered back to where he’d been in his seat. “You know, I don’t think it’s entirely hopeless. You may very well have some luck among those young girls who really like vampires.”

  
  


At that, the man scoffed loudly. He somehow appeared to be more offended by that notion than by Ferdinand’s unprompted groping. “Ignoring  _that_ claim,” he muttered, barely audible over the sounds of the bar, which was busier than ever. “I do not think that I have much interest in  _appealing_ to anyone.”

  
  


Ferdinand couldn’t resist cooing and pouting at him. “Aw, don’t you say that, you spooky, spooky gentleman. There truly is someone for everyone.” He paused and swirled his drink, considering his words as thoroughly as a drunken fop could be reasonably expected to. “I mean, if you were to really twist my arm, I may even say that I find you rather easy on the eyes. Not as much as you could be, of course, but. You are unique. Enchanting, even.”

  
  


When Ferdinand received no answer to his comment, he heard the faint voice of his more rational self fading in through the fuzz and chatter. There was simply no reason for him to have said such a thing. In fact, there was hardly a reason for this conversation to have started in the first place. If Ferdinand had simply minded his own business and not made googly eyes at the first walking corpse to look his way, he wouldn’t have ended up in this mess.

  
  


A scrape sounded next to Ferdinand as the stool that had acted as a buffer between him and the stranger was pulled out. The bar had filled up so quickly that Ferdinand hadn’t even realized that the extra seat was starting to become prime real estate. Ferdinand was on the verge of thanking the universe for the relief from the awkward situation when his sallow compatriot spoke up.

  
  


“That seat is taken,” he said with enough gravitas to send the newcomer away with nary a second look.

  
  


Ferdinand audibly gulped and gawked at the yawning maw of shadow across the stool. He couldn’t help but be downright flattered by how fiercely he had defended the spot between the two of them. Perhaps this was an offering of peace, nay, friendship?

  
  


The man looked askance at Ferdinand. “Were you not waiting for someone?”

  
  


“Oh, right, yes.” Ferdinand hunched in on himself in an instinctive attempt to hide his blush. “Thank you.” How could he have so readily interpreted that as so much more than it was?

  
  


“You are an unusual man,” said the ghostly form as he slid from his stool, tall enough to do so with the utmost grace. “However, I can’t say I understand the appeal, fully.”

  
  


Ferdinand found himself twisting around in his seat to grab hold of a dark sleeve before he’d even managed to fully blink the confusion from his eyes. “What… on earth are you talking about?”

  
  


All that the man left Ferdinand with was a click of the tongue and an opaque “I am still waiting for you to impress me yet.”

  
  


Once the wisp of shadow had stolen away from Ferdinand’s evening, all that was left to do was sit and babble quiet questions into his drink. “Did he know me? Was I supposed to know him? Was that supposed to be flirting? Am I ever going to see him again? Do I  _want_ to see him again? How much have I had to drink?” At that final one, Ferdinand doubled back. He cleared his throat and spoke up to the bartender: “how much is my tab?”

  
  


Ferdinand was wincing at his check when that coveted empty stool next to him was filled. The newcomer, donning a sharp, white and red jumpsuit and a tidy chestnut updo, was a sudden and frightening reminder that Ferdinand had, in fact, been here to meet someone. As she settled in, Edelgard checked her phone briefly before tucking it into her purse and hanging it on a hook under the bar. In the time since Ferdinand had last seen her, she had somehow managed to find a way to present herself even more boldly and perfectly than before. The cat-eye makeup she bore made her eyes look bigger without sacrificing any of her characteristic seriousness.

  
  


Edelgard made a face at Ferdinand, eyes wide with exaggerated disarray. “I can’t apologize enough for being late,” she said. “It has been hectic. And I certainly didn’t expect it to be so busy.” She scratched her neck and crinkled her eyes in a genuine smile at Ferdinand. “It’s fortunate that you’re still easy to spot in a crowd.”

  
  


“Is that a compliment?” Ferdinand squinted at her through his stupor. “I wish dearly to take that as a compliment.”

  
  


“Take it however you like,” she said. With little more than a wave of her hand, Edelgard grabbed the attention of the bartender in the way only a pretty girl could. The service was swift and efficient, and Edelgard all but instantly had a tall glass of the sweetest stout on tap. “So,” she addressed Ferdinand. “How are things?”

  
  


The words rattled around in Ferdinand’s head for some time before he processed them. He really ground the gears of his mind trying to mine some halfway decent words in his state. “Good, good,” he said vaguely. As Edelgard sipped her beer and Ferdinand compared the alcohol content of his own drink to hers, he suddenly felt very badly like he wished to lie down. “Say, Edelgard,” he mused in an attempt to fill the silence with whatever possible. “What are your thoughts on vampires?”

  
  


Edelgard choked hard on her drink. “ _What_ ?” she said, red in the face.

  
  


“Ah, I’m not sure. Don’t girls really like vampires these days? I find I’m not entirely hip on the trends.” When Edelgard’s stunned expression didn’t change, Ferdinand realized that he was doing a rather poor job of explaining. “It’s just on the mind. Do you like them, or…? What exactly do you think is the draw?”

  
  


A disappointed sigh made Edelgard’s shoulders sag. “You’re drunk.” She picked up Ferdinand’s glass and furrowed her brow at the tiny bit of liquid that rippled in it. “How long have you been here?”

  
  


“Ah, see? That’s where I’ve got you beat,” hissed Ferdinand with all the triumph he could muster. “I was  _early_ . Quite early. And you, my good dear, were late. Chalk this one up to me and the Aegir family.” 

  
  


“I’m taking you home,” said Edelgard.

  
  


“Oh, oh, I see. Trying to one-up me by extending a kind hand. I see through your ruse.” Ferdinand wagged a finger proudly at her. “I’m always one step ahead of you, my dearest rival.”

  
  


Edelgard sighed once more and put a hand on Ferdinand’s back. “Do you want a ride home?”

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


“Alright.”

  
  


As Ferdinand stared, enraptured with the reflections of the console buttons in Edelgard’s sunroof, he struggled to ground himself and his senses. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he remembered the piece that he’d accidentally pickpocketed from the shadowy man earlier. Ferdinand pulled the object out and studied it in the passing streetlights. It was a small ring of thorny twigs, woven together in a  minuscule wreath and affixed to a pin back that had been bent somewhat in Ferdinand’s manhandling. As he tried to straighten it out, he nearly pricked himself on the fierce thorns that branched out from the edges. They seemed to be very real and far sharper than the pin that they were attached to. 

  
  


The car lurched, and Ferdinand put away the pin so that he could focus on the road to settle his stomach. Quiet had been settled in the cabin since the initial conversation had died off. Only the low sounds of the radio were there to keep Ferdinand’s mind from wandering blearily back to the intriguing man at the bar. Instead, as the effect of alcohol faded somewhat from his system, he grew self-conscious. He eyed Edelgard, shame sinking into his bones. She didn’t deserve to get saddled with his own transgressions like this.

  
  


Ferdinand lolled his head to the side and frowned at her. “I’m sorry for making such a fool of myself tonight, Edelgard.”

  
  


“I appreciate your lucidity,” said Edelgard. “But, I have to ask. Why were you flat drunk before I even arrived? I didn’t think that you dreaded our meeting so much.”

  
  


“No, no, I hadn’t the slightest bit of dread.” Ferdinand sighed. The harsh, wavering shadows on Edelgard’s face made her look almost like another person. “I was excited to see you again, to be honest. Perhaps too excited. I did show up the slightest bit early.”

  
  


“The slightest bit,” repeated Edelgard with a smirk. “Certainly early enough for an impressive pre-game.”

  
  


“I didn’t mean to drink so much, I swear.” Ferdinand screwed his eyes shut to try to chase off his nausea, but the image of the gloomy stranger intruded on him, flashing across his eyelids like a sunspot. The image felt unreal, and just out of focus, but ever-present. “I was distracted at one point. That’s why I got carried away. Perhaps I should have known,  irresistible as I am, that I wouldn’t be able to sit alone at a bar for so long without being approached. So, of course, being hounded by some peculiar gentleman, I forgot how much I was sipping between our dialogue and, as you know, I only partake in the finest of liquors, so, sure enough--”

  
  


“Wait, hold on.”

  
  


“What?” Ferdinand opened his eyes just enough to squint across the console at Edelgard.

  
  


Edelgard turned up her hands upon the steering wheel. “You cannot possibly think that the contents of your glass is more interesting than this supposed admirer of yours.”

  
  


Ferdinand shut his eyes once more. “I was getting there. Let’s see.” He tried to focus on the dancing image of the man behind his eyelids. “It was a man,” he described slowly. “He was tall, and rather imposing. If I must say, he was a little bit below my level, but interesting enough. He dressed as though he were coming from a funeral, poor thing--”

  
  


“Do you have a name for this man?” Edelgard cut in with a rather terse interjection.

  
  


“His name was… ah. I don’t think I ever got his name.” Ferdinand pressed a hand across his forehead. “My manners. I don’t know how I managed to forget them entirely. Not that  _he_ had been especially polite. And I don’t think I will forget him for lack of a name, such a distinctive man. His face looked like a blasted skull, and I’m not exaggerating-- what is the matter? Are we getting gas?” The car had stopped, pulled into a dingy gas station lot with lights that bombarded Ferdinand’s eyes.

  
  


Edelgard got out of the driver’s seat, and the shifting of the car made Ferdinand grab a handle to steady himself. “I have to make a phone call,” said Edelgard simply.

  
  


“Huh?” Ferdinand blinked at her  silhouette.

  
  


“I just remembered I need to speak urgently with my assistant,” she elaborated. “I’ll only be a moment.”

  
  


“Wait, wait, wait.” Ferdinand leaned across the center console and put out a hand to stop the door from closing behind Edelgard. “Will you get me some tea while you’re up? If they have it, of course.” He fluttered his eyelashes sweetly at Edelgard, who just snorted and shut the door on him.

  
  


He watched Edelgard pace on her cell phone for a moment before getting bored and deigning to poke around the interior of her car. Her glove compartment had anything one might expect; Ferdinand passed through some folded documents, hand sanitizer, a map of the city, and a surprisingly robust first aid kit. When Ferdinand went to stuff the findings back where they belonged, however, something of interest emerged from between the folds of the map. A small necklace landed in Ferdinand’s lap – a chunky chain with a silvered cross on the end. The surface gleamed in a polished shine, like it was taken good care of.

  
  


Ferdinand fingered the piece curiously. What purpose did Edelgard have keeping a rosary in her car? He’d never known her to be especially religious, despite the pious perception of her family and its business. Perhaps she was finally caving to the pressure of her lineage. Ferdinand’s heart welled with sympathy as he turned the trinket over in his hands.

He was in the process of carefully tucking his discovery back where he’d found it when the door opened. With a yelp, Ferdinand slapped the compartment shut, surely leaving a trap of falling debris for the next poor soul to try to open it.

  
  


Ferdinand perked up at the soft clunk of a bottle falling into the center cup holder. “Oh,” he chirped. “You got my tea. That was fast.” He scooped up the bottle and cradled it in his lap. “How was your call? It looked like you were really chewing the poor thing out.”

  
  


Edelgard shook her head as she threw the car into reverse. “Just drink your tea so you don’t feel like garbage in the morning.”

  
  


Ferdinand frowned at the label of the bargain beverage. He was sure that the sugar content would be worse for his health than the booze from earlier. Setting aside the bottle, Ferdinand looked for a way to bring up the rosary to Edelgard. After some consideration, he decided that exposing himself as a snoop wouldn’t be worth getting clarification for something like that.

  
  


When Edelgard dropped him off, she noted that he hadn’t had any tea and reminded him to drink some water before bed so that he could be good for his busy morning, to which Ferdinand vaguely mumbled an agreement. His morning would, in fact, be very packed with lots of lying around and feeling sorry for himself for how terrible his evening had gone.

  
  



	2. Act 1 Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am hoping to get a few chapters settled on this before school starts proper and inevitably slows me down, so expect some front-loading before we get to the end of the first act. Enjoy!

Ferdinand made a point of showing up to the office when Monday came along. Now that he was back in touch with Edelgard, he could never be too sure when she might ambush him with questions about, lord forbid, work. So, Ferdinand had no choice but to try to ensure that he had plenty of updates for her on his excellent business skills. He would sit in his lovely office and look at… reports. And he would write… notes. Or something.

  
  


So he didn’t really know what his job entailed. He’d been comfortable enough knowing that all he ever really had to do was show up occasionally and make sure that the employees perceived him as the friendly, personable face of the Aegir family. He wasn’t entirely sure that anything else was expected of him from his father. Occasionally, however, there would be documents that landed on his desk that he had to look over that happened to have quite a lot more numbers on them than he liked to see. Sure, he was working for a bank, technically, but he couldn’t be expected to be good at mathematics. He had only gone to school for business and accounting for something like four years. How could anyone be expected to retain anything more from those classes than what was necessary to pass the tests?

  
  


Ferdinand had to admit that there were people out there with a tendency towards numbers. Though he found them flat and unappealing, his assistant, Flayn, always seemed thrilled to be pushed extra work in the form of adding and subtracting. She just adored the work that she did. At times, Ferdinand had considered asking her to teach him just what was so exciting about those numerals, but to do so while already loading so much work on her would be downright criminal. He didn’t want to turn into the sort of boss that Edelgard appeared to be, calling her own assistant in the middle of the night on a weekend to give them a hard time.

  
  


Ferdinand jumped when he was yanked from his spacing by the piercing ring of his phone. He recognized the number as one from within the building – a message from one of the conference rooms on this very floor. Ferdinand punched the speaker button and was addressed by the voice of his father. “Good,” said Ludwig von Aegir before Ferdinand could say anything. “You’re here. Ferdinand, would you come out here to meet me? We have something to discuss.”

  
  


“Yes, of course.” Ferdinand took a moment to compose himself for what only sort of sounded like it would be a stern talking to about how little he’d been working. He’d handled these sorts of lashings before, and he knew that they never amounted to more than a slap on the wrist. A week of coming to the office on time would be enough to get his father off of his back and allow Ferdinand the space to return to his semi-weekly tee offs.

  
  


On his way out of his office, Ferdinand paused to gingerly slide his unfinished work onto Flayn’s desk. Though she raised her eyebrows slightly, her big, green eyes seemed to impose no judgment. Though, she was often quite hard to read, so perhaps she just kept her thoughts on Ferdinand under tight wraps.

  
  


“I’m dreadfully sorry to impose,” said Ferdinand. “But I appear to have an impromptu meeting I must attend.”

  
  


Flayn flipped through the pages and nodded. “Yes, I can do this,” she remarked. The pile that she stacked the new work onto was big enough to leave a sinking cavern in Ferdinand’s gut. But, Flayn appeared to keep a positive attitude about all of it. “It will be all done before you know it.”

  
  


“Flayn, I owe you my entire life,” Ferdinand said, dipping his head graciously. “I truly cannot thank you enough for all you do for me.”

  
  


“Well.” Flayn granted Ferdinand a broad smile. “My job is to assist, is it not? You shouldn’t ever feel guilty for asking help of me, Ferdinand.”

  
  


Ferdinand found some relief in the cooling, pleasant gaze of his assistant. “Thank you, truly. I’m indebted to you a million times over. Should you ever need anything in return, I promise--”

  
  


“You ought to hop to your meeting before I hold you to those words,” Flayn interjected with a wry grin.

  
  


“Yes, of course.” Ferdinand hid his blush and trotted across the office, feeling a sort of bubbly optimism speeding up his steps. The pleasant exchanges he had with Flayn could grant him enough calm and positivity to carry him through the whole day. It was like taking a shot of pure sunshine just by stepping out of his office for a moment.

  
  


Ferdinand’s momentum came to a screeching halt when he made eye contact with the woman in the conference room. Gulping, Ferdinand steeled himself for a discussion of his demeanor out of the office, as that was surely what would have brought Edelgard all the way out here. Had he really offended her so much with his drunkenness that she needed to tattle on him?

  
  


* * *

  
  


“She’s buying us out?!” Ferdinand sunk into the floaty conference room chair, suddenly feeling the force of gravity multiply. Somehow, this meeting wasn’t just worse than he expected; it was infinitely worse than he could have ever imagined. “I’d rather you fire me than force me to work under Hresvelg’s iron fist for the rest of my days! Er, no offense, Edelgard.”

“I take only some,” she remarked coolly.

Ferdinand’s father put his hands flat on the glassy table. The blasting light of the sun was filtering straight into the room, making every surface glint and radiate heat. “Now, listen, Ferdinand,” said Ludwig. “There’s no need for your theatrics. We are not being ‘bought out.’ It is simply a merger of our two companies.”

“ _Merger,_ ” Ferdinand spat, lunging himself out of his chair to fervently pace the length of the room. “Call it what you want, father. It all means the same.”

Weariness creased the lines in Ludwig’s face further. “I know how this must look to you, but I ask that you keep an open mind. This decision is extremely beneficial to both of us, and I simply don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t act on our mutual interests.”

Blood rushed in Ferdinand’s head, hard and fast enough to make his ears ring. “Of course you would say that! I am so sick of seeing you roll over to every single thing you’re told to do and then pat yourself on the back like it was your idea.” He could feel himself losing control of his words, even projecting somewhat on his father, but he had no way to stop it. He was heating up, pacing faster, casting off the dark jacket that sucked in the sun’s bombardment, loosening his tie.

“Looking past your hostility and conduct, Ferdinand,” snapped Ludwig, his hands balling into fists. “I’ll have you know that I resisted this offer at first. When Ionius came forward with a similar idea some time ago, I just about laughed him out of my office. But, now.” He shrugged and tipped his head to Edelgard. “This girl has worked tirelessly to arrange a deal for us that I would be insane not to take.”

“Why am I only hearing of this now?” Ferdinand balked at the thought that all of those days that he didn’t come to the office, he was leaving his family name vulnerable to complete annihilation. “Why did it occur to no one to tell me? Or to ask my opinion before going forward like you are the only person this affects?”

“Ferdinand--”

“I mean, goodness sake! It’s as if you have completely forgotten that I, too, hold the Aegir name and I deserve to have a say!” He wanted to pull his hair from his head. It was as if his own father had completely forgotten about his existence. “Father, what happened to including me in your decisions for when I get to be CEO?”

“How can I get a hold of you when you’re never around?” Ludwig scowled. “I was hoping that Edelgard would tell you--”

“ _Edelgard?_ No, actually, she appears to have said nothing even remotely hinting that she would completely destroy my entire life from the inside out.”

Edelgard crossed her arms and puffed a sigh from her nose. The white light from the window she leaned upon caught her hair in a halo-like glow. “For your information, Ferdinand, I did intend to tell you. But, with the events of the other night...” when she trailed off, Ferdinand’s heart dropped. To think that the only reason that Edelgard wanted to meet was so that she could break to him the news of her cutting him off from the one thing that he had in his life.

“I can’t believe… I mean,  _why?_ ” Ferdinand struggled to catch his breath. He didn’t know where to look. Edelgard apparently couldn’t be content with just constantly making him feel inferior; she had to single-handedly drag down his entire life on the way up. And to do so with such a cool, collected expression. Ferdinand felt like lesser than a piece of gun that she was peeling off of her shoe.

“This is for the better of both of us,” explained Edelgard. “Our companies already cover such similar ground that compiling our resources would only expand our business.”

“It is really a generous offer,” added Ludwig.

Edelgard nodded. “If anything, your side of things will end up with the lion’s share of benefits.”

Ferdinand’s fingers dug divots into his palms. How could they be talking about this so pragmatically? This had nothing to do with growth or business benefits; this was Ferdinand’s personal livelihood that they were tampering with. “And when all of this is done,” said Ferdinand, voice shaking. “What then? Where do I go? Whose name is going to be on the front of what we become?”

“Well, that is something we can discuss--”

“I don’t  _want_ to discuss this; I want to know that I will still have my  _job_ and my  _life_ down the line!” Ferdinand’s eyes stung. “What am I supposed to do once all of this is done? Without my name, I might as well be useless!”

Ludwig sat back in his chair as if the sheer force of Ferdinand’s outcry had knocked him prone. “Ferdinand, I didn’t realize you cared so much about this. You certainly didn’t seem to act like you cared.”

“Of course I care! I just didn’t know it was going to be ripped away from me out of  _nowhere_ !” Ferdinand tightened his gut and swung open the door of the conference room. “I suppose I’ll have to just go say goodbye to the Aegir name. Just tell me when it’s over.”

In Ferdinand’s peripheral vision, he could see Edelgard’s hand reach out. “Ferdinand, wait--”

He didn’t bother to look back. Crossing the office with an unbroken pace, Ferdinand stared blindly at the elevator ahead. He couldn’t bear to look at the workers that he pushed past. The idea that the rest of the office, the rest of the world, was still going forward business-as-usual while Ferdinand’s entire world crashed down around him made him downright sick. He needed to get out. He needed quiet.

The elevator doors opened and Ferdinand swept in without a second glance, grateful that no one followed him inside. Hand on his mouth, he tried not to let his pitiful sobs ring out too loud in the echoing can of metal. He couldn’t be too sure if the people on the passing floors could hear him. He slid to the floor, back against the wall, and made eye contact with himself in the waist-high mirrored strip along the perimeter. He looked an utter wreck – pink eyes, wispy hair, jittering hands. He tried his best to tuck his hair into a ponytail to make himself look slightly less unkempt, but there was nothing to be done about the rest of him.

When he caught his breath from crying, he rolled up his tear-stained sleeves and let his head flop against the wall. He couldn’t help but laugh at himself. All of this disaster, and he was still concerned about his appearance. But what else was there to think about at this point? He was powerless to stop anything.

Ferdinand pulled his knees to his chin and stared at the floor. When the elevator slowed to a stop, he didn’t bother looking up. Whoever was coming in would have to be able to see the situation and move on. When he saw the pair of dark pants and shoes step on, he hoped that at least they would have the decency to follow standard elevator conduct and say nothing. Just look forward, and say nothing.

“This elevator is going down now, you know.”

Ferdinand gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on the shoes. “So?”

“So,” said the man in a voice so stern it just about snapped Ferdinand out of his stupor. The atmosphere had changed so quickly that his post-cry shakes turned into a spine-tingling shiver. “You were going up before,” continued the voice above. “And I presume that you took this elevator to go somewhere, but if you stay on, you will go back down.”

Ferdinand caught sight of the man’s cuff and hand in the sliver of mirror. Who on earth would be wearing gloves at an office? Oh, no.

When Ferdinand clamored to his feet, clutching the handrail, the door was already on its way shut. “Pity,” said the ghostly man, his angular lips pursed. “Looks like it’s too late.”

Ferdinand’s chest tightened when those deep-set eyes met his. In the dim  halogen lights, the shadows weren’t so harsh, and Ferdinand could almost make out a flash of golden iris among his dark eyes. “What… what are  _you_ doing here?” In his disarray, Ferdinand’s questioning came across as far more accusatory then genuinely confused. 

“I would assume that it’s for the same reason that you are here,” the man rasped, his tone tinged with displeasure but not outwardly hostile. “To do my job.”

All Ferdinand could do was sputter like a madman. “But… but, I. I’ve never seen you here before…” He wondered for a moment if his initial conception of the man was true, and he was truly some grim harbinger of his own death. “Good god, are you actually going to kill me this time?”

Was it normal for a person to laugh at such an outrageous claim? Yes. But what most certainly wasn’t normal was the nature of the stranger’s downright sinister chuckle. The sound was all at once ominously quiet and loud enough to vibrate Ferdinand’s very bones. “Well,” murmured the grim figment. “You do tempt me with such an offer.”

Ferdinand’s stomach churned with tension like he’d never felt before. Why was the man  _looking_ at him like that? “W-What?”

“However,” hummed the man with a strikingly casual tone. “I must decline.”

A sharp  _ding_ signaled the end of the interaction, and the stranger began to disappear once more, just as lacking in a goodbye as before. Ferdinand wanted to ask more, to say anything to help him figure out what this man’s deal was, but he simply couldn’t pick his jaw off of the floor. When the man paused to glance back at Ferdinand, he wondered if this would be the last time he saw this slippery  apparition. The foreboding smirk, dark curls, and skull-like face would surely remain a staple of his worst dreams from here on out, as this second meeting all but guaranteed that he wouldn’t be able to let the booze-filtered first encounter fade from his memory. 

The man disappeared into the halls of floor eight, and Ferdinand flopped his weight back onto the handrail, head spinning. To have to bump into such a being so soon after the worst news of his life, Ferdinand was entirely convinced it was an omen of some kind, but of what he wasn’t sure. He didn’t even know what the man could be doing here; as far as he knew, that floor he got off on wasn’t being used for anything.

That was when Ferdinand paused. Frightening man, abandoned floor, far too close to Ferdinand’s own workplace? There just had to be something up. Ferdinand straightened and considered what to do. Staring at the downward ticking number overhead, he knew that it would take far too long for him to wait for the elevator to go all the way down and circle back. By the time he got there, the man would have most likely already moved on to somewhere equally mysterious, like a graveyard, or a cabin in the woods. Wherever he went in his free time.

No, Ferdinand had to deal with this immediately. He knuckled the button of the next floor up and then mashed the door open button until the lift stopped and let him out. He blasted past the bystanders and hooked a sharp turn down the hall towards the stairwell. He thanked himself for putting up his hair earlier as he lunged, two steps at a time, trying to recall the layout of the floor above. The relatively open floor plan would make it easy enough to track the man, but extremely hard to hide from sight. He would have to make do.

Ferdinand slowed his roll as he emerged into the dusty hallway at his destination floor. He put a hand on the door handle to quiet its closing and crept, foot over foot, towards the empty office space. He listened for any hint of footsteps or rustling, back against the corner, but nothing came to his strained ears.

He took a breath to compose himself and rerolled his sleeves before gliding as quietly as he could into the space. He was shaken immediately by the sheer darkness of the room; the lights were out, and the sparse windows were covered with tarps, allowing only some beams of sun to sneak in when the air vents rustled them. Furniture was discarded along the walls, in and out of boxes, and stacks of buckets and tools confirmed for Ferdinand that the whole floor was being worked on. What purpose could the gloomy figure possibly have in here?

A floorboard creaked, and Ferdinand ducked behind an old desk. Poking his head over top, he could just make out the dark inkblot shape of the man he’d come here to hunt. The figure paced slowly around the edges of the floor, leaving behind what seemed to be a trail of ash. As he stooped down to attend a pile of ashes, Ferdinand ducked himself back into cover.

Ferdinand considered using his camera phone to document the peculiar behavior. If he had evidence, he might be able to put off the damned merger by informing his father that he needed first to deal with the mysterious happenings going on within his own building. Letting out a breath and clinging to that hopeful thought, Ferdinand opened his phone, slowly so as not to let it click into place too loudly, and started up the camera application.

Steadying his elbows on the dusty desk, Ferdinand tried to snap a couple of photos. The inconsistent lighting created quite the struggle, but he simply clicked the button multiple times and hoped that some of the photos would turn out halfway decent. He tried to get a view on the tiny flame that the devil had set, and on the disabled smoke detector just above it. “Oh, that’s definitely not up to code,” remarked Ferdinand under his breath, delighting at the thought of showing this activity to his father.

By the time that Ferdinand clapped a hand over his needlessly eager mouth, the damage had already been done. The shadowy figure twisted and locked eyes with Ferdinand across the room. Ferdinand had barely started to register his vaulting heart rate when he felt a wall against his back and an arm against his neck.

The shadows cast over the stranger’s eyes by his low brows were darker than ever. Only tiny slivers of amber were visible against yawning black holes of pupils, which took in so much of Ferdinand that he was sure there would be nothing left of him to be seen by anyone else. In his rush of fear, Ferdinand was intent to look at anything other than those pinning eyes. He focused one at a time on the black sleeve against his throat, the smoke wafting in the room beyond, the rustic pin on the man’s lapel that matched the one that Ferdinand had found in his pocket the other night. But there was some kind of drawing force that kept him returning to the deathly gaze.

“I expect that you know what I’m about to say,” came the sharp,  enunciated words from Ferdinand’s captor. When Ferdinand attempted to interject, the arm against his neck pressed harder. His nostrils were filled at once with the scent of smoke and bitterness. “But, for the sake of clarity, I will inform you that, should you tell anyone about what you saw today, your life is forfeit. Understood?”

Though Ferdinand gasped for air with all his might, he struggled to fill his lungs enough to retort. Pawing at the man’s arm, Ferdinand locked eyes with him and barely managed to squeeze out, “I’m calling your bluff.”

The tiniest flash of an expression danced across the skull-like face. Widened eyes, parted lips. It was hidden as fast as it surfaced, but Ferdinand caught it. Shock. Ferdinand smirked. “You won’t kill me,” he continued. “If you were going to, you would have already done so.”

The fluttering light cast a grim mask across the man’s high cheeks and pursed lips. “Such a bold claim,” he hissed. “What if I simply wish to take my time? To drink the anticipation off of your sweat, and delight in the sound of you bargaining for your release?” The man took some of his weight off of Ferdinand and toyed with the collar of his shirt. Despite the freedom from the pressure, Ferdinand still couldn’t catch his breath. “What if,” continued the man in a voice so low that it was barely audible above the rushing in Ferdinand’s head. “What if I am just holding you here so that I can watch you run in circles in that vapid orange head of yours, imagining just how terrifying your fate could be? Rest assured, whatever you think is the worst that can be done to you, I am capable of far, far worse.”

Despite the whirling tension inside of him, Ferdinand held steady. “Oh, really? Then do something to me. Now.”

The answer that Ferdinand got was a curled lip and a scoff. The gap between the two of them, Ferdinand realized, had grown small enough that he could feel the man’s breath upon his skin, a pocket of warmth against his shivering body. “You smug little ponce,” hissed the ghoul. “You should thank every deity you can think of that I don’t wish to anger my employer.”

“And who is that?” Ferdinand puffed out his chest to give himself some space. In response, the man peeled off of Ferdinand and turned away from him in a huff. Slowly rolling his feet across the floor, Ferdinand cautiously moved away from him as he surveyed the smoldering lines of ash that he’d left on the office floor.

“ With how much a fool you’ve made of yourself recently, you are most likely on thin ice,” mused the silhouetted man over his shoulder as Ferdinand continued to creep away. “Which means.” He met Ferdinand’s eyes with a chilly look. “You may be on the market soon enough.”

Ferdinand eyeballed the most efficient way to the exit. “You know, this really is the strangest attempt at coquetry that I’ve ever experienced.”

A growl erupted from where the man’s smirk had fallen. “Get. Out.”

He didn’t have to tell Ferdinand twice. He bee-lined it towards the elevator and sailed his way home as fast as he possibly could. It wasn’t until he had melted on his bed for quite some time that he was able to gather his thoughts. Though, there weren’t many thoughts to gather. When he checked the photos that he had taken at the scene of the activity, it was clear that they would be entirely useless as actual evidence. All that could be made out was a shadowy figure splashed across the frame like an errant smear of ink. The shape of the man was just a blur, no matter how in-focus the rest of the image was, as if he absolutely refused to be photographed. 

When Ferdinand rolled over and received a face-full of sunlight, he remembered that the day was still barely halfway over. He needed to do something of use with himself, lest he get wrapped up in his own self-pity over the merger. He couldn’t give himself even a minute of reflection to linger on that.

An idea bloomed as Ferdinand tabbed over his blurry images. Perhaps he didn’t have strong proof on its own, but if he could figure out just  _what_ was going on in that abandoned office, he would be able to expose it, thus putting a potential pause on the merger. There was no way that Edelgard would want to buy out a company that had witches lurking around in the woodwork. 

Tidying himself up and putting on a fresh outfit, Ferdinand decided that he was going to get to the bottom of things, right away. On his way out the door, he lingered for a moment, images flashing through his mind of the striking amount of joy that the skull-faced man seemed to take in the  idea of maiming and killing Ferdinand. But, he shook himself free of his fear. So what if he ended up dead in a ditch somewhere? If he couldn’t save his family name, he may well have nothing to live for anyway.


	3. Act 1 Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back in school now, and I expect remote learning to kick my ass, but we'll see how much that slows my update schedule. Keep your eyes out for new chapters at least once a week, I hope!!

Though Ferdinand avoided going to work for the following couple of days, he was making progress elsewhere. In the afternoon after he got back from the most hectic work day of his life, between the news of the merger and his encounter in the abandoned office, he had set out to start on the exhilarating task of research. He was dead set on discovering the true nature of what he’d seen being done in the abandoned office, and he was making enormous strides to do so.

When Ferdinand had sought out a local book store for resources, his request for all of the books in stock about the occult had gleaned him a rather meager stack of issues about witches in history and self-help books about the use of herbs, crystals, chakras, or some combination of the three to improve living. When he was disappointed by the selection, he was sent nearly kicking and screaming to the library instead. The very thought of having a library card made Ferdinand feel like he was a pathetic beggar seeking free books. However, the librarians had been particularly helpful in directing him to resources that progressed Ferdinand’s research far more than anything he would have sought out on his own would have done.

Now, Ferdinand had a notebook filled with information that he found to be useful as leads. His working theories were that either the shadowy man had been attempting some sort of voodoo ritual on Ferdinand’s office space, or that the man wasn’t even a man at all, and was some kind of ghoul or ghost. Ferdinand was hesitant to believe in the existence of these beings, but he wanted to keep an open mind. Besides, if anyone he’d ever met was secretly some kind of monster, it had to be him.

Ferdinand had gotten so caught up in his studying during the week that he was startled when Edelgard called him during the day. Given the opportunity to speak to her without his father breathing down his neck about the state of the company, Ferdinand offered her an earnest apology regarding his dreadful behavior towards her prior.

“Edelgard, I am so truly sorry for my conduct,” he’d rushed over himself to say without even answering the phone with a proper greeting. “I was upset, but that didn’t give me room to behave in such a way. I don’t know how I expect to represent--”

“Ferdinand, it’s okay.”

Ferdinand released a breath, and realized how much tension he’d been holding in his shoulders when they finally relaxed. “Is it? That’s wonderful, Edelgard, thank you.”

“I understand why you’re upset, Ferdinand,” said Edelgard with a tinge of weariness to her voice. He knew that the amount of patience she was exerting just to forgive Ferdinand was more than a little commendable. “For that, I must apologize on my end for not getting in touch sooner. I regret missing our chance to properly discuss this.”

_Regret_ . Ferdinand swallowed a cluster of guilt as he looked back on his failed meeting with Edelgard. This past week had really been a terrible look on him. “I am so, so sorry about that, Edelgard.”

“All is forgiven,” she said. “If you are able today, I would like to discuss with you the details of our arrangement that we couldn’t touch on at our earlier meeting. I think you’ll find that things don’t look quite as bad as they seem for you. Can you find time to come to my office this afternoon? It’s only a couple of floors above yours.”

Ferdinand looked awkwardly around his home office. “Yes, of course, if you’ll give me-- wait,  _your_ office? Above mine?”

A puff of air came from Edelgard, resembling a chuckle with very little mirth. “Well, yes. We  _are_ merging companies, and I am overseeing it.”

“Oh. Right.” Ferdinand drummed his fingers on his desktop and pictured an office twice as big as his in his own building, with glimmering gold walls. How did she manage to always upstage him? “So, where is this office at?” Ferdinand screwed his eyes shut and prepared for her to tell him that she was evicting his father from his penthouse and taking that.

“I believe it’s on the eighth floor?”

It took all of himself not to audibly gasp. “The spare floor? Why there?” Ferdinand considered warning her of the activity he’d seen, but decided against throwing accusations around without proper evidence. “I hear… that it’s a less than favorable office. So few windows.”

“It was available,” said Edelgard matter-of-factly. “I felt no need to remove someone from their workspace just for me and my employees while there was an entire floor that was nearly untouched.”

“How just of you,” Ferdinand remarked, trying to hide his bitter tone. Even in this, she was proving herself to be better than he expected. “Okay. I can make it to your office this afternoon if you give me some time. I must finish… working on something. And then I will be right over. I will conduct myself gracefully, I promise.”

“As always.”

“Of course.”

Ferdinand hung up the phone as calmly as possible before bolting out of his office and diving for his closet. If he put himself in a suitably business-oriented outfit, there would be no doubt at all that he had actually been at the office all day. He flipped through his pants and jackets, searching for something undeniably professional that wouldn’t look too outrageously different from what he would normally wear. Threading the needle, as he always did with his fashion.

Unsurprisingly, it took Ferdinand some time to pick out the perfect outfit, but he was perfectly happy with putting his priority to his  sharp cuffs and ruffles before his punctuality.  As such, he was rather fashionably late when he arrived at Edelgard’s new office space. 

In utter contrast with the abandoned, dusty floor from the other day, the new office was full of activity. Workers from both Edelgard’s and Ferdinand’s companies were scurrying to and fro, passing around documents and  messages between the two departments. Though it looked on the surface like a bunch of folks doing simple work, Ferdinand felt like he was watching a bunch of cubicle workers picking apart his life and passing the pieces back and forth.

Though there were still a few boxes cast about, it was truly impressive how quickly the renovations to the office space had happened since Ferdinand had last been here. There was barely any resemblance to the gutted, cold room that he’d chased the ghostly man into. Maroon carpets had been laid, covering the potential remnants of what he’d discovered, and the furnishings boasted a sharp black and white aesthetic, far more unique than Ferdinand’s own hand-me-down space.

Two minimalist black desks flanked the entryway to Edelgard’s office. On the left, there were so few things on the surface that Ferdinand wondered if anyone had ever used it, and to the right, a dark-haired woman was eyeing Ferdinand over a magazine.

“Oh, good, you’re here.” Edelgard addressed him from where she filled the threshold, all red and white and shoulder pads. She greeted Ferdinand with a rather refreshing smile. “I’m ready for you, so come in whenever you please.”

Ferdinand dipped his head. “I am ever prepared as you are,” he remarked. “Lead the way.”

Edelgard stepped back into her office, but paused halfway through the motion, hand on the doorway. “Oh, I should take the opportunity to introduce you to my second assistant, Dorothea.”

Ferdinand faltered somewhat under the fierce, probing gaze of the woman at the right-side desk. “Pleased to meet you,” said Ferdinand as politely as he could with the phrase  _second assistant_ ringing in his mind. What kind of work did Edelgard do to warrant  _twice_ as many assistants as he?

“Charmed,” said Dorothea with just enough smug energy in her voice to tell Ferdinand that he hadn’t done a very good job at hiding his feelings.

Before Ferdinand could make a fool of himself trying to justify the face he made, Edelgard moved in to direct Ferdinand into her office proper. “If you ever need something relayed to me or otherwise, and you cannot find my first assistant, just ask Dorothea.” With the confidence of someone who had been here for years, Edelgard slid into place behind her elegantly simple desk and addressed Ferdinand with folded hands.

“So,” said Ferdinand as he lowered himself into a starchy canvas armchair across from her. “Who is this supposed ‘first assistant?’”

“He is… elusive, at times,” Edelgard explained vaguely. “You won’t see much of him around here, hence why you met Dorothea.”

Ferdinand couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the implications of that. Someone so unreliable would be unfit for any assistant position, let alone a first of two. He had to take a moment to thank the powers that be for the fact that he could always find Flayn when he needed her.

“He does good work, I assure you.” When Edelgard defended her assistant, Ferdinand made a mental note to better keep his thoughts off of his face in the presence of perceptive women. “It just so happens that most of that work is off-site.”

“Yes, of course,” Ferdinand backpedaled. “I never had any intention of rudeness at my questioning. Never mind me; let’s get to the meat of this meeting, lest I take up unnecessary time in your busy schedule.”

“Worry not about my time, Ferdinand. I have little at hand today aside from dealing with moving pains.” Edelgard produced a paper from her desk and slid it across the surface at Ferdinand. “Go ahead and take your time looking over this, if you would.”

Ferdinand thought that, after a period of skimming over the page many times, he would eventually figure out the secret meaning, as if letting his eyes fall out of focus over the series of random words would reveal a hidden picture. But nothing came, even after some minutes of trying to connect the dots. “I apologize if there is something I’m missing,” said Ferdinand, shaking his head. “But this appears to just be a list of assorted adjectives.”

“That,” said Edelgard, leaning forward. “Is a list of the aspects that make for an excellent CEO.  Now, you don’t need to answer out loud, but I want you to picture someone who encapsulates these features thoroughly.”

Ferdinand scanned the page again. Words like  _consistent_ and  _punctual_ stood among others,  _selfless,_ or  _motivated_ . Though Ferdinand wished not to face it, he knew that the person being described wasn’t him. Not at this point in his life. His motivation had walked away with Edelgard when they parted ways in their youth to go to separate schools, and he’d all but morphed into exactly the features of his own father that he’d grown to resent. Complacent, entitled, lazy. Ferdinand drilled his eyes into the paper in his hand and wished dearly for this meeting to be over as soon as possible.

“It’s safe to say that whoever exhibits these strengths is the right choice for the head of this newly merged company, when it comes time for that.” With each word out of Edelgard’s mouth, Ferdinand sunk further, mentally and physically. “However.” Edelgard stood from her chair and spread her hands on her desk. “The choice has yet to be made, and you know as well as I that these are learned skills.”

Ferdinand lifted his head slowly, meeting Edelgard’s firm gaze with his own hopeful one. “Edelgard, you mean…?”

“Since you weren’t at the full meeting with your father and me, you may take this opportunity to contribute to the list in your hand if you think that it’s lacking anything,” Edelgard said coolly. “Any input can be submitted within the week--”

“Our employees,” Ferdinand said suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“We are supposed to act as leaders, are we not?” Ferdinand rose from his seat, his heart buoyant. “These adjectives, they’re nice, but they reflect just us. Should the actions of those directly underneath us not also be considered in how we are defined as leaders?” All of Ferdinand’s momentum was fueled by the comparison he’d already made in his head between his sweet, attentive Flayn and Edelgard’s absent assistant.

Edelgard tapped her chin with a pen. “That isn’t an unfounded idea,” she mused. Her thoughtful expression dropped and morphed into one of surprise when she noticed something past Ferdinand. “It looks as though you’ll get a chance to meet my first assistant,” she said as the door behind Ferdinand opened. “Hubert, why don’t you introduce yourself to Ferdinand before we talk?”

Ferdinand twisted to face the doorway, and his brain came to a grinding halt when he saw the dark form that filled the threshold, neither in nor out of the office. The icy look from his golden eyes was enough to knock Ferdinand right back into his chair, mouth gaping like a grounded fish. 

“So,” said the newly named shadow,  _Hubert_ . “This is the famed Ferdinand?” He took his sweet time enunciating every letter in Ferdinand’s name, like he could savor the shock on Ferdinand’s face for longer just by drawing out the moment. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Ferdinand resisted the urge to cry out, to make a break for it. He had already made himself out as far too judgmental by showing his feelings too openly to Edelgard and Dorothea, so he was adamant about presenting himself as cool and calm in this moment. “Likewise,” said Ferdinand, his voice quiet in an attempt to keep his tone level. “So you’ve heard of me?”

“Indeed I have.” Hubert’s stance was defensive, unwilling to enter the office all the way. “Edelgard holds you in rather high regard,” he continued. “I do hope that you can live up to her expectations, as well as my own.”

What were his expectations, anyway? Ferdinand was sure that all the man expected of him was a hurried transformation into a corpse. “Well, I’m sure I can see to it that you aren’t disappointed,” said Ferdinand before pointedly turning back to Edelgard’s desk. “Now, if I may. Where were we, Edelgard?”

“ _Actually._ ” Hubert’s sharp voice made Ferdinand jump. Somehow it was far, far worse coming from behind his back. “I have something to--”

Hubert was knocked ungracefully against the door frame as an energized Dorothea butted past him. “’scuse me, Hubie,” she chirped, brandishing an envelope with a fancy wax seal on it. “I’ve got a delivery to you from downstairs. A mister… Gautier. Says it’s ‘top priority.’”

Ferdinand snorted and intercepted the missive before it reached Edelgard’s hand, promptly ripping it in half. A collective gasp filled the room, followed by a marked “ _What_ are you doing?” from Hubert from where he remained behind Ferdinand. 

Ferdinand tossed the scraps into the waste bin, glad to have an opportunity to remind the others that they were working on  _his_ turf. “It’s trash,” he assured the room, folding his hands in his lap and crossing his legs. “Though he’s not from  _my_ division, lord forbid, I know full well that this is the man who attempts to bed every woman who joins the staff. Ignore him and his attention-seeking traps.”

Dorothea’s face shifted from anger to understanding as Ferdinand explained. Being a woman as pretty as she, all glimmering eyes and silky hair, there had likely been many men of the sort in her career. She was quick to thank Ferdinand for his repossession of the letter. “Good catch,” she said. “I will keep that name in mind for the future. So sorry to bother you with this, Edie. I’ll be more careful.”

Edelgard gave Dorothea a concerned smile. “All is well, Dorothea. And Ferdinand, thank you for your proactivity on this matter.”

“Well, see you ‘round, Ferdie,” chimed Dorothea, seeing herself out. “And carry on with your  _lurking,_ Hubie.”

Hubert’s eyes were practically rolling back into his head as Dorothea left the room. It seemed he simply couldn’t accept that Ferdinand was doing more to make Edelgard’s life better than her own  _first assistant_ , to the point that he was physically rejecting the notion. Ferdinand tried not to look too smug as he watched Hubert’s reeling.

“Right. Hubert.” Edelgard stuck out her hand. “You were bringing me something. Come in, let me see it.”

Hubert finally breached the threshold and approached Edelgard’s desk with a couple long strides.  As he crossed closer to Ferdinand, he could feel a sort of repulsion in the atmosphere; seeing this man, especially with the knowledge that he was now closer to Ferdinand’s life events than he could have ever imagined, gave Ferdinand an uncomfortable, pressing sensation, like attempting to push two magnets together against polarity. What didn’t help was that, as he spoke under his breath with Edelgard, he kept glancing Ferdinand’s way, like he was waiting for him to do something. Though Ferdinand tried to ignore him, the itchy, skin-crawling sensation that he was being watched kept dragging him back to the combative eye contact.

Once Edelgard had carded through the packet that Hubert handed off to her, he gave her a hasty curtsy and attempted to announce his leave when Edelgard put out a hand. “Actually, Hubert, I have some things to discuss with you after this. Why don’t you stick around?”

Once more, Hubert looked Ferdinand’s way. Did he expect some kind of objection? Did he want one, so that he could leave? Was he equally as uncomfortable as Ferdinand was in this moment? Ferdinand very purposefully gave him nothing. Not a hint of his feelings.

“I can stay,” hummed Hubert, still staring Ferdinand’s way. “So long as my presence does not disturb your guest.”

Ferdinand couldn’t hold back his petulant tone. “I am perfectly fine, thank you very much.” With the snort that followed, Ferdinand could all but give up on his vow to watch his behavior. “And I am hardly a ‘guest’ in my own building. No offense, Edelgard.”

“Oh, so you own this building, then?” Hubert hunched over to be face-to-face with Ferdinand. “I had presumed that it was your father’s.”

Ferdinand got to his feet, all but colliding his head with Huberts, his face flushed. “Well, if you must be so pedantic--”

“Both of you, knock it off.” A sharp  _thud_ snapped Ferdinand’s attention to Edelgard, who had slapped her open palms firmly on her desk. Breathless, Ferdinand shifted back into his regular posture, straight and prim. He resisted the urge to look askance at Hubert next to him as he went so far as to  _kneel_ on the floor, head bowed, like he was regarding a deity.

“I was out of line, Edelgard,” said Hubert with a level voice. “I apologize deeply for my behavior.”

“As do I,” added Ferdinand with a shallow dip of the head. To think that he would get so hot under his collar over this man that, as far as Edelgard knew, he had just met. She must have thought him completely mad.

Edelgard seated herself at her desk and straightened her blazer. Blessedly, she took a moment to gather her composure so that Ferdinand wouldn’t be subjected to the nightmare that was a truly furious Edelgard. “Now,” she said after fully settling in. “Where were we, Ferdinand?”

A sort of low hissing sound came from Hubert as he straightened up and shuffled away from Ferdinand. As soon as he was cleared of his personal space, Ferdinand intently focused all of his attention on Edelgard, though the presence of that looming shadow in his periphery was still enough to split his consciousness a bit. “If I may, Edelgard, we were just discussing the inclusion of employee conduct in the decision of who would be CEO.”

Edelgard tucked a stray brunette lock behind her ear with a purposefully calm expression. “Yes, that was right. How do you suggest we keep track of something as abstract as conduct, though?”

“ We can keep track of simple, measurable things, such as punctuality and quotas met, and compare them on a regular basis to keep an eye out for improvements,” Ferdinand suggested, eyes straight forward. “Perhaps it could be a point system that’s compiled near the end of each week; we can encourage competition by posting scores.”

“ _Competition_ ,” said Hubert under his breath, shooting Ferdinand a smirk that, of course, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from. “Next thing you know, he’ll be planning a track and field day that gives ownership of the company to the victor.”

Ferdinand pursed his lips. “Oh, heavens, no, that would be entirely unfair to you,” he jabbed. “You may pull a muscle, or break one of your surely hollow bones.”

“I am a might stronger than you think I am,” scoffed Hubert. “Surely, you should know by now which of us would win.”

Ferdinand felt his throat tighten as the sensation of Hubert pushing him up against a wall flickered through his memory. That couldn’t count; Ferdinand had been entirely unprepared that time. “Is that a challenge, then?”

“I would like nothing more.”

“Hubert, please,” Edelgard scolded.

It took a hearty pause before Hubert finally broke his stare away from Ferdinand. “Apologies,” he said softly, though the crease of his smirk never left his cheek.

Edelgard sucked in a breath and shuffled the papers on her desk. “Ferdinand, I do like your idea. We can compile these scores on Thursdays, post them Fridays.” She peered at a dry-erase calendar on her desk as she worked out the details. “We can start this week, if you wish.”

“ Should there perhaps be a demerit system, as well?” Ferdinand offered, shooting a glare in Hubert’s direction. “Like, perhaps if an employee gets caught doing… nefarious actions that may hurt the company, we can take points away accordingly?”

Edelgard followed Ferdinand’s gaze and met eyes with Hubert, with whom she shared a questioning look. “Very well, we can work that in.”

After sorting out more details about the points and the overall arrangement, including an insistence that their weekly meetings be formal dinners as opposed to stuffy office sit-ins, Ferdinand was strutting out of the office with a confidence that he could guarantee himself a victory against Edelgard. She appeared to have no clue as to what her first assistant was up to in his free time, so, if Ferdinand could get to the bottom about his actions, he would be able to keep a trump card up his sleeve, powerful enough to turn the whole thing in his favor.

As Ferdinand had walked from the office, he’d felt the piercing stare of Hubert on his back the whole way to the elevator. The eerie, heart-racing sensation that the man’s presence inflicted on him didn’t wear off until long Ferdinand had been away. He made a note of his symptoms in the notebook where he kept his research to remind him to search for whatever spell or effect was surely being cast to make him feel such a way.

* * *

Ferdinand scurried to stuff away the more incriminating occult books from his research when the doorbell rang. The last thing that he needed was for Flayn to think him some kind of freak.

When he peered over the banister to look in the entryway, Ferdinand saw his guest in the threshold where the maid had answered the door. Flayn noticed Ferdinand as soon as he poked his head out, and she perked up at the sight of him. Even from across the room, her verdant locks were stunning. “Flayn, my dear, do come in! I will be right down.” He smiled as Flayn picked her way politely inside. “Make yourself comfortable,” Ferdinand called down. “The furnishings in the foyer are to die for.”

When Ferdinand emerged to greet Flayn properly, he was awash with accessories and fragrance. His instinctive need to impress as a host was stoked further by the presence of a guest that he truly respected. Though, she was only donning her usual business-casual pencil skirt and cardigan.

When Ferdinand was face-to-face with Flayn, she was rather quick to remind him of the simple nature of their meeting.

“Tutor or not,” Ferdinand assured her. “You are a guest in my home, and you deserve to see my very best side.” He flourished and took her hand. “Now, may I get you a drink?”

“You really do not have to,” said Flayn bashfully.

Ferdinand grinned at her nicety. How he loved to do the fanciful courting dance of offer and refusal, back and forth. And Flayn, ever polite, was an expert at it. “Wait. Better question: red or white wine? Whatever you choose, I will, of course, be having some as well.”

Flayn hummed in thought, her eyes fluttering. The green-gold that bounced off of her eyelashes was almost unreal in its beauty. “Red,” she answered after a proper deliberation.

“Excellent choice.”

Though his office was one of the most drab locations in Ferdinand’s town house, he did acquiesce to Flayn’s insistence that they go somewhere that would be effective for work. Tapping into her folders of sample invoices and ledgers, Flayn proceeded right away with the mathematics section of their plans, much to Ferdinand’s chagrin.

“While your work here is a good effort,” Flayn explained, pointing at the work that Ferdinand had attempted during the week. “You have a bit of a habit of rushing to the end to get to the bigger picture. Understandable as that is, it isn’t consistent. Besides.” The glimmer of delight in her eyes was enough to make Ferdinand swoon. “The little details in the numbers are where the fun lies!”

“Is it now?” Ferdinand furrowed his brow at the sheets on the glazed desktop. He wondered just where he wasn’t looking that the supposed fun was being hidden. He found that the most fun thing in his presence was the sweet face of his tutor, and the way her coiffed curls fell across her face when she tilted her head. The fragrance that came off of her was an unfamiliar one, resembling straw and iron, and drawing him in with its rustic essence.

As he turned over the series of math problems that Flayn posed him, it didn’t take too long before he was finding the bottom of his glass. Passing his work to Flayn for review, he made for a refill, but paused on the way out. “Oh, honey, you’ve barely touched yours. I do hope you don’t dislike it.”

Flayn finished jotting her notes before addressing Ferdinand. “Oh, I suppose I just forgot about it,” she chirped with a tiny chuckle. “I promise you, it is plenty delicious.”

“Tell you what,” Ferdinand said when he returned from his topping off. “I will look over some of my own work, so that you may take a break. Perhaps with fewer distractions, you won’t forget.”

“I will try not to look over your shoulder,” giggled Flayn.

Despite her agreement to the terms, Flayn continued to instruct Ferdinand during her supposed break. Hard to kill such enthusiasm. Thankfully, she was at least drinking her wine between bits of advice, just as Ferdinand had wanted. In fact, she hurried through two whole glasses before Ferdinand was anywhere near finished with his second.

“Are you feeling okay after all that, Flayn?” He gave her a concerned look, hand on her arm as she went for another glass. With what little Ferdinand had had, he was already feeling the slightest bit sleepy, and she was nearly half his size.

“I am doing just fine,” assured Flayn proudly. “Am I taking too much?”

Ferdinand shook his head. “No, no, enjoy all you want. I’m relieved that it is to your standards.”

Flayn’s little nostrils flared as she savored the scent. “It is very rich,” she remarked.

“Indeed it is.” He was impressed by just how bright her eyes still were. She seemed to somehow get more and more energy with each drink down her gullet. How Ferdinand wished to have such an ability. Only a little bit of wine, and he was already spending far too much of his tutoring session making dreamy eyes at his teacher.

Though some more work was achieved, it wasn’t too long before Ferdinand conceded that his inebriation was creating a block in his calculation skills. Though Flayn tried to insist that there was plenty of time left in the night for studying, Ferdinand stood firmly by his excuse of lightweightedness. Nevertheless, always the good host, Ferdinand insisted on tidying away the scattered study materials as Flayn waited on the lounge and drank her fill.

When he was tucking papers away, Flayn’s voice came from the lounge behind him, a tinge of humor to it. “Hmm… Ferdinand, what are your thoughts on this, erm, ‘heartthrobbing exploration of a high school girl who falls for a vampire?’”

Ferdinand tensed and peered cautiously to where Flayn was browsing the tacky romance novel that he’d picked up at the library with his research materials, somewhat as a joke. He hadn’t been able to resist his curiosity about the supposed literary trend. “Oh, that,” chuckled Ferdinand as casually as he could. “It is… fine.”

“Ferdinand, I did not know you read these sorts of things.” She cracked open the hard cover and fluttered through the pages. A tiny gasp preceded her next question: “Is it  _naughty_ ?”

An intensifying blush joined the warm haze of wine that was already present on Ferdinand’s face. “Goodness, no! I would  _never_ !”

“So what is this, then? I thought that these sorts of books were always inappropriate.”

“Well.” Ferdinand huffed and put a hand to his chest, leaning upon the desk. “Being for young adults, I would hope that it’s not inappropriate. I am simply reading it for a want for nostalgia. I used to read many romances in my youth.”

“I see.” Flayn leaned back on the lounge, holding the book aloft. Ferdinand chuckled and crossed over to sit next to her, peering over her shoulder at the pages. “So,” Flayn hummed once Ferdinand was settled. “Is it romantic?”

Ferdinand was far too relaxed to feign aloofness. “I suppose it is,” he mused earnestly. “The relationship is rather intense and compelling, but it has not really clicked for me, premise-wise.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess I just do not really see what makes the lead so attractive.” Ferdinand tipped his head back and forth as he spoke, as if jostling his brain around in his skull would help him construct his thoughts. “He is pretty, yes, but the protagonist’s friend appears to be far more friendly and far more available. Why pursue a killer like him?” Tapping his chin, Ferdinand squinted at Flayn. “Tell me, Flayn. You are a young, trendy girl, are you not?”

Flayn’s eyes were big, but her brow was creased. “If that’s what you see me as, I will not go so far as to challenge it.”

Ferdinand set his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Do you understand the appeal of vampires? The entire concept has me feeling rather cold, but there must be something, else it wouldn’t be so popular.”

“How could you not understand the appeal of vampires?” Flayn asked, hand upon her chest.

Ferdinand was relieved that he didn’t get this level of outrage from her when he was particularly bad at math. “I suppose I just don’t get it? It does not appear much different from courting a murderer to me.”

“It is not that simple! It’s like. Hm.” Flayn shifted in her seat and put her hands on Ferdinand’s shoulders demonstratively. “Right now, I could potentially push you to the ground, could I not?”

“I hope this isn’t some sort of threat,” said Ferdinand.

“I could push you right now,” repeated Flayn. “But you trust me not to do so. You trust me not to condescend to you while I help tutor you. You can trust me with your opinions on a raunchy romance book.”

“It is most certainly not raunchy--”

“The point is, we are trusting one another, yes? And is trust not the basis of intimacy?”

Ferdinand’s brows couldn’t grow any more furrowed, both by his confusion and by Flayn’s frankness. “You are right, in a way. But I don’t see how that connects with the topic at hand.”

“Well, a vampire romance is to take that trust to the extreme. What may be a potential push now can be turned into a shove against a wall, or a sword at the throat, or, say, a pair of fangs at your neck.”

Clearing his throat, Ferdinand reeled at Flayn’s examples. Was she implying that violence was attractive? If that were the case, he would have been a lot more worked up over Hubert’s threatening him. In fact, the only image in his head that he could conjure in association with Flayn’s descriptions was that of Hubert pinning him to the wall of the abandoned office.

“Now,” came Flayn’s voice as she followed through suddenly on her implications and pushed Ferdinand backwards into the arm of the lounge. “Right now, do you trust me?”

Breathless and blushing, Ferdinand nodded.

“And is that not exciting?”

Ferdinand was absolutely flabbergasted as he tried to sort through the events right in front of him while his insipid imagination was running away with the application of Flayn’s example scenarios to that of him and Hubert. As Flayn eyed him, he felt suddenly rather exposed. “P… Perhaps?”

Flayn placed a finger under Ferdinand’s chin. It was cool against his skin. “Is it not the peak of romance to push your trust to its limits with a being who is designed just to consume you?” Her voice grew softer, prompting Ferdinand to lean further in. “And, of course,” she continued with a smirk. “There is the benefit of adding some bite to your kiss.”

Ferdinand attempted to distract from his embarrassment with a chuckle. “You are quite bold, trying that kind of discussion so early.”

Flayn giggled. “I thought that wine was supposed to soften inhibitions,” she remarked.

She wasn’t wrong one bit. Were he sober and with someone who wasn’t so intoxicatingly beautiful, he would have turned into a stuttering, prudish mess by now. Though his bashfulness was enough to remain through the fog, it was not enough to prevent him from allowing a wandering finger to twist into a lock of Flayn’s hair and seek to tuck it behind her ear…

A dearth of weight on Ferdinand’s chest was all that remained where Flayn had just been. She’d shot up off of the lounge with no warning, tense and wide-eyed like a rabbit caught in the middle of the street. Ferdinand barely managed to get out a “what’s wrong?” before she had gathered her things and started out the office.

“I’d just forgotten,” she said hastily when Ferdinand reached out to stop her.”I have important business to attend in the morning. I must see myself home right away.”

Ferdinand frowned. “My dear, you simply must stay a little longer.” His fingers were still tingling with the excitement of potential intimacy. He had gone so long without a proper kiss, an embrace, _something._

“No, no, I really must be off.” Flayn smoothed down the hair that Ferdinand had been caressing before.

“Oh. Well.” Ferdinand tried to hide his utter disappointment. “If you really must, at least allow me take you home after you’ve had so much to drink.”

“No, I--” Flayn cut herself off with a sigh. “Actually, that is a wonderful idea. I would like that very much.”

Once Ferdinand had managed to get in touch with his driver and sufficiently apologized for the late hour and short notice, the remainder of the night was quite quiet. Ferdinand chose not to bring up anything too sensitive after the stumble he’d made in his office, so he kept conversation in the car to simple, amiable small talk. They touched on the hectic state of the office during the merger, and Ferdinand asked what she thought about Edelgard and her… assistants.

“I actually haven’t met them yet,” said Flayn, her body language guarded as it had been for the duration of the car ride.

Ferdinand furrowed his brow. “That’s odd; have I not sent you up that way on a couple of occasions this week?”

“You have, but.” Flayn hunched her shoulders and worried at the nail on her thumb. “The first time I tried to go up there, I suddenly got rather sick on the way. I did not want you to get angry with me or send me home, so I didn’t say anything. I apologize.”

Ferdinand pushed past the awkward barrier between them to set a concerned hand on Flayn’s. “Oh, dear, you mustn’t feel bad for getting sick. When was this? Did you stay around the whole day after?”

“ Oh, it faded after some time,” Flayn said. “I was quite alright by the end of the day.” She  offered Ferdinand a meek smile. Just when the atmosphere was relaxing, however, she caught sight of the window past Ferdinand and perked up. “Oh, we are nearly there. Um, would you be so kind as to just let me off here? It is only a short walk.”

Ferdinand scoffed in exaggerated outrage. “My goodness, a young lady such as yourself, out in the city in the middle of the night? Perish the thought. I must bring you right to your doorstep.”

“Please, I insist,” said Flayn, pulling away from Ferdinand in a rather frustrating movement. “If you must know, I have a rather possessive older brother who would jump to conclusions if he saw you dropping me off. I simply do not wish to stir things up at this hour.”

Though Ferdinand wanted to resist, he couldn’t help the ache in his chest at her rather earnest confession of family troubles. That she trusted him enough to tell him was a comfort. “Well, if you truly think you will be okay, I cannot hold you here.” He motioned for his driver to pull over. “However, in exchange I have to ask that we meet again for another tutoring session. Sometime soon.”

“Absolutely.” Flayn took Ferdinand’s hand, squeezed it, dipped her head, and set off into the night, leaving Ferdinand wishing forlornly for a traditional good-night kiss to end the evening. But, such closure would elude him, and he wondered if it would be too unprofessional to even want for such a thing.


	4. Act 1 Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand comes to a bold conclusion after meeting with Hubert and Edelgard.

Ferdinand’s fingers traced across the tiny ring of twigs pinned to his lapel as he waited for Edelgard. The accessory was something of a testament to how frustrating his research had gotten; in his search for answers, the lack of proper, concrete evidence was his greatest roadblock, with this pin being all he had. Upon returning to the library, he’d been able to confirm with some confidence that the sharp, fierce looking branches were from a hawthorn plant, but the progress all but halted there, as the uses of hawthorn in folklore were many and contradictory.

  
  


Along with some hope that simply wearing the item around would give him the potential for some kind of epiphany, the carefully woven thorns were quite attractive. The pin sat atop his heather gray jacket with a dark, rustic flourish that made him feel rather confident. He found it a shame that Hubert’s dark-on-dark palette had minimized the piece so much.

  
  


Catching a glimpse of Edelgard across the golden lights of the restaurant, Ferdinand rose to greet her, only to be faced with her unfortunate plus-one. The oppressive shadow on Edelgard’s arm was surely going to ruin the chances of a pleasant evening and the potential aesthetics of the table as a whole. While Edelgard’s sleek black look was topped with a blazing red scarf, next to her, Hubert appeared to be nothing more than a smear of frumpy charcoal.

  
  


More importantly, what were the implications of these two coming as a pair? Was Ferdinand expected to have brought his own company? Though he was immediately put off-kilter, Ferdinand squared himself and presented as smoothly as possible.

  
  


“Edelgard,” Ferdinand greeted, hand to his chest in a polite bow. “ _Hubert._ Pleasure to see you, as always.”

  
  


“ Good evening,” said Edelgard. Rather than hang up her purse as she settled in, she passed it to Hubert, who held it stoically in his lap. “Now,” she said, fishing a folded page from her bag. “To begin with my own progress--”

  
  


“Please, Edelgard, be patient,” said Ferdinand, putting out his hand. “I intend to enjoy a lovely meal with a friend before we dive straight into business.” Though, he wondered if it would be worth sticking to his plan with Hubert present in the mix.

  
  


Edelgard raised her eyebrows at Ferdinand’s proposition, but after a beat she softened and gave him a smile, taking his hand politely. “We may wait until after the first course,” she offered.

  
  


“I can be happy with that much.” Ferdinand squeezed her hand before passing her a velvety menu. Though he tried to act as naturally as possible, Ferdinand felt rather foolish with a third party present, making the table feel comically small, as if they were all huddled around a tea saucer. It took tremendous effort on Ferdinand’s part not to bump knees with Hubert, who seemed unconcerned with where his long legs were placed.

  
  


“So,” chirped Ferdinand once he and Edelgard had received their beverages and Hubert is… water. “How are you adjusting to the new space, Edelgard? I know that the overflow floor isn’t ideal for someone of your stature, so I do hope that you can find a more permanent residence in the future.”

  
  


Edelgard shook her head. “The efforts by the renovation team was phenomenal.  Hubert even contributed to the planning, so it’s really a very personally thought-out space.”

  
  


“Is that so,” Ferdinand hummed in the breeziest tone he could muster. “I didn’t know that Hubert was skilled in interior design.”

  
  


Though he had been trying to brace himself for it the whole time prior, the sheer acrimony which dripped from everything Hubert said was enough to make Ferdinand wince when he finally opened his mouth. “It is not my specialty, but I am always pleased to do what I can to make Edelgard’s life easier.”

  
  


“I’m sure you are,” Ferdinand said, trying not to make a face like he’d just bitten into a lemon. “I presume you have been working for Edelgard for some time, then?”

  
  


“Hubert is something of a friend of the family,” explained Edelgard, pulling Ferdinand away from the antagonistic glares that were being tossed between Hubert and him. “We have been familiar for as long as I can recall, really. Even when we were young, our families used to refer to him as my personal shadow.”

  
  


As she spoke of their history, Hubert visibly radiated pride. With his chest puffed, Ferdinand couldn’t help but notice that Hubert had replaced the hawthorn pin with a matching one, stuck into a vest that, on closer inspection, had a rather intricate embroidery on it that caught the light subtly. Though it caught the eye, Ferdinand felt horrendously intrusive for even noticing something minor as the ambient light catching on Hubert’s chest; the fact that Hubert bore a whole body underneath all of his dark coverings was a secret that Ferdinand had no interest in being let in on.

  
  


Quietly clearing his throat and directing his eyes back to Edelgard, Ferdinand reminded himself of his quest to behave naturally. “Well, I suppose that this is the point where you tell me that Hubert was a real wild child back in the day,” he ribbed.

  
  


Edelgard put a hand to her mouth to suppress a snort-heavy bout of laughter while Hubert deflated. “Yes, well,” puffed Edelgard. “It’s safe to say that he’s been well inside of his shell for his whole life.”

  
  


Ferdinand sipped his drink innocuously as he glanced at the grimace that had set into Hubert’s skeletal face. “Oh, worry not,  _Hubie,_ ” Ferdinand cooed. “You will surely come into your own eventually. You’re just a late bloomer.” He stuck his chin in the air as Edelgard continued to chuckle.

  
  


The giggling and prodding would not cease as Hubert was subjected to more bullying over the appetizers. Ferdinand was wondering if the night did have a chance to be enjoyable when  the chuckling slowed and Edelgard offered Hubert a morsel of her order to try.

  
  


She brandished a fork at Hubert, who sighed. “If I must,” he hummed. When he took the fork, Ferdinand noticed that he hadn’t removed his gloves with his coat. Where the white fabric on the back of his hands could have easily been mistaken for his pale skin in the low light, a flash of a red accent on the palms caught Ferdinand’s eye. He had almost assumed that Hubert had hurt himself somehow, the crimson of the fabric was so deep, but with some tactful studying of the material, he could see that these were simply a more decorative pair of gloves from his usual wear.

  
  


Fixating on fashion did help Ferdinand distract himself somewhat from the intimacy between Edelgard and Hubert. Though it had been possible to ignore the peculiar feeling when the pair had first arrived, Ferdinand couldn’t ignore the sense that he’d ended up a third wheel at a dinner that was supposed to be about his business. He bitterly wondered why Hubert couldn’t just order something for himself so that he would not have to tolerate the sight of him eating off of a utensil that had been in Edelgard’s mouth.

  
  


Hubert paused thoughtfully after his taste test, his tongue briefly flicking out from behind his lips. “It is… fine,” he remarked eventually.

  
  


“Are you saying it’s bad?” Edelgard asked.

  
  


“It is simply not to my tastes,” replied Hubert. Ferdinand did little to hide his eye roll. Of course he could trust Hubert to force the fun conversation to be pigeon-holed into  trivial small-talk about the food’s quality. Not that he disliked small-talk. He loved it. But the very thought of sharing exchanges about the weather or what was on television last night with Hubert made his skin crawl.

  
  


After some exchanges of food discussion, Ferdinand cleared his throat and pointedly inserted himself back into the conversation. “If the food is worthy of praise, then I take it that you approve of my choice of venue?”

  
  


Edelgard gave a nod and swept a lock of chestnut hair over her shoulder, drawing the eye to her bright scarf, and an ivory pin that was somewhat lost in the folds of it. “It is lovely,” she remarked. “I wouldn’t have expected such a nice place to be out here.”

  
  


“Ah, out here? Is there something odd about the area? I’m not familiar; I tried this restaurant out on a recommendation from Flayn.” Ferdinand swooped in to elaborate after taking a sip of his drink. “That is, Flayn, my assistant. You’ve yet to be introduced.”

  
  


“I don’t know if your assistant is from around here,” Edelgard said, a crease in her brow. “But it is a rather rough neighborhood.”

  
  


“Is it?” Ferdinand fingered his thorn-lined pin with a worried motion.

  
  


Hubert was the one to respond. “This area has had an especially high  _crime rate_ in recent months,” he said pointedly, as if accusing Ferdinand of single-handedly committing the crimes.

  
  


“ This is the first I’m hearing of it,” muttered Ferdinand. Suddenly, he found himself regretting the decision to let Flayn walk home the other night. Who knows what sorts of dangers might have lurked in those shadows, waiting to prey on a young woman in the middle of the night? 

  
  


“You needn’t worry about it,” said Edelgard. “Hubert’s presence alone is more than enough to deter any threats.”

  
  


“How practical,” Ferdinand remarked. His  _presence_ was certainly hard at work making Ferdinand feel queer, thanks to whatever mystical effects were surrounding him at any given time. But, perhaps he could understand how that might potentially deter the odd weak-willed nefarious soul.

  
  


Ferdinand found himself unintentionally seeking out the antagonistic loos that he and Hubert had been exchanging all evening. Alas, Hubert was more interested in looking Edelgard’s way this time. “Milady, your scarf has fallen,” Hubert pointed out. “Please, allow me.”

  
  


Edelgard leaned over to allow Hubert’s assistance. “I guess it’s inevitable when I keep it in place with something so heavy,” she said, re-pinning the ivory broach in a more visible spot. Upon getting a better look at it, it was now clear to Ferdinand that it was an intricately carved crucifix , the relief pattern on the surface an eye-catching series of brambles.

  
  


“That is a beautiful brooch, I must say,” said Ferdinand.

  
  


“Thank you,” Edelgard said, poised and polite. “It’s a gift from my father. I don’t know if it fits me very well, but it’s a powerful piece.”

  
  


A quiet, cold vibe set in around the table. Ferdinand was waiting for Hubert to interject at the opportunity to compliment is oh, so beloved boss, or life partner, or lover, or whatever she was to him. Strangely, though, he stayed silent. 

  
  


“Well,” said Ferdinand, trying to remain casual. “It’s striking, truly. Of all things, I would have expected to have you beaten in the accessorizing department, but it seems you’ve upstaged me once again. Kudos.”

  
  


“Nonsense, Ferdinand. You present yourself wonderfully.” Edelgard eyed him over her glass, a coldness present in her stare. “I’ve been meaning to ask about that pin of yours. It’s very unique. Where did you get it?”

  
  


Ferdinand paused when he realized that he didn’t have a properly boastful answer for the request. Could she not have asked him about his tie, or handkerchief, or  anything that he’d actually purchased for himself? “If I’m being honest, I haven’t the foggiest idea,” he said, settling on a weak excuse and trying to support it with a cavalier performance. “It just sort of… turned up when I was last cleaning my closet.” The chuckle that he followed with was only the slightest bit frantic. “I nearly pricked myself on it when I found it.”

  
  


“Is that so,” said Hubert. T hough Ferdinand was sweating like a whore in church, somehow a shiver still rolled down his spine. 

  
  


“ Yes, well,” Ferdinand stopped to clear his throat. “I’m quite glad you like it, Edelgard. I know it isn’t as detailed as your brooch, but I do find the craftsmanship on it rather beautiful.”

  
  


At that Edelgard simply nodded politely before sharing a look with Hubert, who was folding his hands rather tightly on the table. Ferdinand wondered what exactly it was that he’d done to make conversation stop so thoroughly. In the form of both a blessing and a curse, when their dinner platters came out, Edelgard took the lead in discussing business matters, allowing Ferdinand to focus on something other than the strange atmosphere that had set in. 

  
  


Ferdinand came forward to Edelgard about his improved punctuality and his tutoring sessions with his assistant, hoping that the emphasis on his efforts would soften the impact of  his rather poor quantitative reports. The whole discussion left Ferdinand feeling like he was under more scrutiny than he’d been in his entire life. Occasionally, as Ferdinand was reporting to Edelgard, she would shoot a look to Hubert, after which he would write something down in a pocket notebook. The pressure further increased when she would lean over to whisper something to Hubert, making Ferdinand’s hair stand on end with the sheer leaps his imagination took regarding what she could be saying.  He couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it felt like to sit through a difficult job interview.

  
  


Post meal, as they wrapped up business discussion, Hubert had made his one and only order of the night in the form of a cup of espresso, whose stench pulled a rather disdainful look out of Ferdinand when it arrived at the table. Though he chose not to say anything, Ferdinand noted to himself how appropriate it was for a distasteful man to find comfort in a distasteful drink.

  
  


Ferdinand was hasty to scoop up the check, insistent that he was responsible to cover at the restaurant the he’d picked out. Besides that, Ferdinand had endured more than his fair share of stress this evening and he sought out the slight comfort that etiquette granted him. He tried to ignore the way that Hubert looked down his nose at him, as if to say, “buying Edelgard’s favor will not make up for your poor performance” with only his eyes and a smug crease in his slender nose.

  
  


Ferdinand’s composure threatened to steam out from under his collar while he looked pointedly away from Hubert, tucking his card in the little leather book and clapping it shut loud enough to draw eyes from the other tables. Leaning back in his seat, Ferdinand tried to fidget away his frustration, pressing his fingers to the thorns of his stolen pin to ground himself. He was listening so intently to the rushing in his ears  that he didn’t hear when Edelgard excused herself, only seeing when she got up and waved for Hubert not to follow her.

  
  


“I’m so sorry. Where is she going?” Ferdinand’s voice was small, cautious, as he addressed Hubert.

  
  


“The restroom, and, perhaps, a phone call.” Hubert curled his lip, his eyes flashing harshly at Ferdinand from under his shadowy brow. “Can you not pay attention?”

  
  


Ferdinand’s mouth hung open so wide at that comment that his teeth clacked audibly together upon re-closing. “I’m  _sorry_ ,” he spat. “I didn’t realize that  _I_ was the rude one here.”

  
  


“Excuse me?”

  
  


Ferdinand scoffed. “Oh, come, now. This… arrangement that you have with Edelgard, doesn’t it strike you as rather unprofessional?”

  
  


“ What business do you have calling  _us_ unprofessional?” Hubert leaned into Ferdinand’s personal space, nostrils flaring and hands balled into fists. Ferdinand wondered how close Hubert was to turning violent,  to slamming him against a wall once again. Would the prying eyes of other people be enough to deter him, or did he not care?

  
  


“I think I have it very much in my interest to care about how the woman who plans to  _own my company_ presents herself in a public space with her own assistant,” said Ferdinand, his voice rising far louder than he intended. “In fact, I think you ought-- Ow!” Ferdinand yelped and hastily crammed his finger in his mouth, which flooded with the metallic tang of blood. His fidgeting with the thorny pin on his lapel had led to him pricking himself due to his worked-up state. 

  
  


“Dammit,” Ferdinand hissed through gritted teeth as he watched the blood well from the surprisingly deep puncture. “Hubert, do you know at all if Edelgard has bandages in… her… purse? What is the matter?”

  
  


Hubert had stood suddenly from his chair, a distressed look on his face. “You  _fool_ ,” he hissed, peering around the area rather frantically before settling an intense stare on Ferdinand. “I must get Edelgard and leave,” Hubert said, low and serious. Ferdinand prepared to follow as Hubert turned away when Hubert suddenly stopped himself and turned back to him. “You should leave, too. Now.”

  
  


Ferdinand gawked and tried to formulate a response, but Hubert disappeared before he could find any words.  The sheer intensity in Hubert’s voice and expression was enough to push Ferdinand to follow his orders with no hesitation, taking the warning in his voice to heart and taking off. He tapped out a call to his driver on his cell phone and tumbled past the clusters of well-dressed patrons at the door to hop in as soon as  the car pulled up. 

  
  


The concerned questions of his driver fell on inattentive ears as Ferdinand reeled in the aftermath. He dug through the fear in his gut, finding that the thing he was most afraid of in this moment was Hubert himself. All at once, it felt like the pieces were starting to fit together to form a picture in Ferdinand’s head. But, he couldn’t be sure yet. For such a bold conclusion, he would need something damning.

  
  


On the way out from the restaurant, Ferdinand demanded that his driver take a detour so that he could stop by his office. He’d  been fleshing out his research during his free time at work, hiding his occult-filled notebook in his desk when he went home. Despite the late hour, Ferdinand was adamant about fetching it right this second.

  
  


He expected to have to beg to be let in by janitorial staff, but the front door was peculiarly open when he tried it. Sliding quietly across the freshly mopped floors, Ferdinand ducked straight into the elevator and willed it to move as hastily as possible to his office. He winced at the sight of the nasty smear of blood that was gathering on his cuff, reflected in the elevator mirror. There was no way that was coming out.

  
  


Ferdinand stepped out into dark halls at his destination floor. He felt his way along the wall, trusting his familiarity with the area, until he noticed a solitary light source down the way. As he approached, his pulse raced. Every shadow that caught his eye, he was convinced that, somehow, Hubert had beaten him here and was just waiting to jump out at Ferdinand. He could see clearly in his head the inevitable results, thrown to the floor, a knife pressed to his neck, or even fangs…

  
  


In a twist that offered him no comfort, the light down the hall was coming from his own office. His already brisk pace picked up into something closer to a scamper as Ferdinand swept his way out of the darkness as quickly as possible, ducking into the beacon of clarity that was his office. He watched his back as he pawed through his desk drawer and grabbed his research notes, relieved to see that they hadn’t been lifted in his absence. With no signs of any potential sneak attacks, Ferdinand gave the notebook a quick flip-through for good measure. No torn pages. Everything was in place.

  
  


When he turned back, a form had appeared in the door. Small, green, silent as the night, and intently staring at Ferdinand. “Flayn?” Ferdinand dropped his notebook on the floor behind him. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  
  


Flayn blinked hard, as if snapping herself from a trance. “I… come here sometimes to do extra work,” she said, warily. “There are a lot of mistakes… in the others’ math. Um. May I ask what it is  _you_ are doing here?”

  
  


Ferdinand settled somewhat at her reasoning, though he still felt rather pinned back by her uncharacteristically intense gaze. “I had… forgotten something,” Ferdinand explained vaguely, scooping his notebook from the floor and placing it back on his desk. “I didn’t realize that you, well, that you worked so hard.” Instinctively, he was fixing his hair so that he looked less frazzled. The last thing he needed was for Flayn to see him worked-up and sweaty.

  
  


“I do hope this is okay, that I use your office, I-- are you bleeding?”

  
  


Ferdinand gasped and tucked his hand behind his back. He’d exposed his bloodied cuff by fiddling with his hair. He was halfway through opening his mouth to explain when Flayn had crossed the room in a flash and grabbed his wrist to study the injury.

  
  


“Hold on,” she muttered. “I have some bandages.” She held Ferdinand’s hand steady and pulled a small pack of tissues and a first-aid kit from her purse, which Ferdinand hadn’t even noticed was slung on his chair.

  
  


Ferdinand bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything too incriminating or strange about his situation as Flayn carefully dabbed off the excess blood. She stuffed the bloodied tissues back into her purse before wrapping him with a snug, plastic bandage. “There,” she said. “Better?”

  
  


“Yes. Thank you.” Ferdinand flexed his fingers graciously.

  
  


Flayn looked at him with those big, sweet eyes, giving his hand a squeeze, and, for the first time tonight, Ferdinand felt calm. “So, what is it that you needed so badly that you had to retrieve it in the middle of the night?” Flayn asked.

  
  


Ferdinand placed a hand flat on his notebook to deter her from opening it and peeking inside. “This is, um, full of notes about that vampire book we were talking about the other day,” he said, grateful that he was relaxed enough to lie without panicking. “I can’t take notes with the margins, what with it being a library book and all.”

  
  


“You’re taking notes?” Flayn’s head tilted curiously, letting a couple green curls fall across her face. Ferdinand was tempted to tuck the hair back into place himself, but he resisted. “You are far more invested in this story than I had presumed.”

  
  


Ferdinand cleared his throat softly. “Well, math is not my only homework right now, you know. I am still trying to uncover the sensual secrets behind the concept of the  _romantic vampire_ .”

  
  


Flayn giggled and put a knuckle to her chin. “So, have you made any breakthroughs yet?”

  
  


“ Um. Well.” Ferdinand shrunk under her prying stare. “I’m coming to some conclusions about, um.” He trailed off, tried to find something fitting to say. “How attractive it is to be longed for? Especially very intensely.”

  
  


Flayn’s eyelids drooped half shut as she listened to Ferdinand, and her grip on his wrist returned with renewed force. “Ferdinand,” she murmured. “You smell absolutely exquisite tonight. Have you gotten some kind of new cologne?”

  
  


The surface of Ferdinand’s skin was growing white-hot, but somehow he didn’t feel nervous at all. “Perhaps it’s… my natural pheromones,” he remarked with a chuckle, limply flipping his sweaty hair. “Flayn, would it be too inappropriate to presume that you find me attractive?”

  
  


“ Not at all,” said Flayn. She hooked a finger under Ferdinand’s chin and tipped him into a firm but polite kiss.

  
  


In the empty office, the tiny sound of their lips pulling apart was stunningly loud. Ferdinand’s skin tingled where she had just been. “I am ever impressed by your forwardness,” he said as Flayn placed another kiss just next to his mouth. “At first glance, you appear to be such a nice, sweet girl.”

  
  


“Who’s to say that I am not?” The kiss that followed was more intense than the first; Ferdinand had to put out a hand to steady himself. The support was swept out from under him when Flayn scooped up his hand, holding him up with her own hand upon his back. Ferdinand watched, wide-eyed, when she broke away from his lips to lay tender pecks across his fingertips, from his pinky inwards. Upon reaching his bandaged finger, she paused, brow furrowed and lips parted.

  
  


As Flayn contemplated his injured fingertip, her grip on Ferdinand grew tighter. When he felt her fingernails, he spoke up: “Is something wrong, Flayn?”

  
  


She shook her head and released his hand. “I apologize. I just hate seeing people hurt. Is it quite painful?”

  
  


Ferdinand curled his finger experimentally and tried not to wince too hard. Though the pressure of the bandage dulled it, the stinging was still hitting him in waves. “It isn’t  _too_ bad.”

  
  


“I would not want to injure you further,” said Flayn forlornly.

  
  


“No, goodness, don’t worry, my lovely Flayn,” assured Ferdinand. “You wouldn’t, no,  _couldn’t_ hurt me, even if you tried. You are the most gentle soul I have ever met.” 

  
  


Flayn’s head still hung despite his words. Ferdinand gingerly twisted one of her fallen emerald curls around his finger, thumbing her cheek comfortingly. Th ere was a beat as the air stood still between them, until Flayn took Ferdinand’s hand in hers and kissed him once more. 

  
  


Ferdinand’s heart leaped as he lost himself in the sensation of her face against his own. Her skin was soft, smoother than that of anyone he’d ever kissed, more perfect than even his own. Her lips moved with a grace and confidence that left Ferdinand speechless, unable to do anything other than follow along with her fluid movements.

  
  


Ferdinand expected some kind of blush or shortness of breath, but when Flayn broke off, she was just as composed as she had been before, while Ferdinand was left a hot, frenetic mess. He suspected her of being far more experienced than he. As he tried to find his breath again, he let his fingers ghost over the smooth skin of her arms.

  
  


“Are you cold?” Ferdinand wrapped a hand around Flayn’s arm. “You feel like you are cold.”

  
  


Flayn blinked her glossy eyes. “Ah, I might be a little,” she said softly.

  
  


“Here.” Ferdinand shed his jacket and slung it over Flayn’s diminutive shoulders. “Sometimes the air conditioning is rather intense in here.”

  
  


Flayn smiled, tugged the jacket around her shoulders and gave a quiet, “thank you.” Perhaps it was immature of him, but Ferdinand found himself hoping for some of that blushing and bashfulness that came with the youthful romance that he’d been too long without. Had it been so long that he’d lost his chance at coquetry without even realizing it? It felt unfair just how mild Flayn appeared while Ferdinand was welling up with feelings over just how lovely the sight of her in his coat was.

  
  


“Ferdinand, what is this?” Flayn outstretched her hand, which held the pin from his lapel, dark against the backdrop of her pale skin.

  
  


Ferdinand took it and turned it in his hand. “It is hawthorn, I think. This is actually how I-- Oh!” The sight of the pin shocked Ferdinand back into reality. How could he have let this affair distract him so? “I am so sorry, Flayn.” He dipped to kiss her forehead as he gathered his nearly forgotten notebook. “We may continue another time, but… I am in a hurry right now.”

  
  


All he got in response from Flayn was a tiny nod as he whirled and scurried back to the elevator. The events of the night came flooding back once he was on his own, scouring the contents of his research for anything relevant to his most recent theory.  If he went straight to work tonight, he would be able to have a fully constructed thesis in the morning to expand upon.

  
  


Ferdinand made awkward eye contact with a member of the janitorial staff as he strode out across the lobby. What was the problem with him coming into his own building this late at night? He stuck up his nose and carried himself gracefully out the door, confident in his purpose. On the ride home, Ferdinand poured over his thoughts and tucked his pin into his shirt pocket for safe keeping.

  
  


Thanking his driver, Ferdinand briskly climbed the steps to his townhouse. He was once more just as tense as he had been on the way to the office. When the bushes around his entryway rustled, his imagination ran wild with all of the possibilities that could be inside. This would surely be the place that he died.

  
  


“Hubert?” Ferdinand called out with a shaky voice, frozen halfway between steps. He carefully put his keys between his fingers as he shifted into a creep, approaching the door. “Hubert, you know better than to try anything that would make Edelgard upset.” He paused once more when the sculpted lilac bush gave another rustle. He had no reason to believe that it was anything other than a bird or a squirrel, and yet… “Hubert, you don’t frighten me! I’ll… I’ll give you back your pin, if that’s what you want!”

  
  


Silence. No more shaking. Ferdinand walked, then ran, then full-pelt sprinted to his front door. He fell over himself unlocking the door, and, once inside, rearmed his security system as fast as his fingers could move.  Head swirling, breath short, Ferdinand peered out the window to see… absolutely nothing in his dark front lawn. 

  
  


Once his pulse finished settling, Ferdinand poked around the house to confirm the absence of any nefarious figures and locked himself up in his office. He spread his notebook on his desk, grabbed a fistful of highlighters, and dug through his notes, marking all important information. On a fresh page, he listed the most significant evidence together next to all of the schema he had about the subject at hand. At the top of the page, Ferdinand titled in big letters, “ _Hubert = Vampire?”_

  
  



	5. Act 1 Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand seeks out further evidence to back his theory, and gains some unintended experiences through it.

It was all starting to come together. Upon returning to the library, Ferdinand made more progress in his research than he ever had. He poured over pages and pages of vampire lore, and they all seemed to confirm his preconceptions. A pale, emotionless creature of the night who feasts on human blood? It was so obvious, Ferdinand wondered how he’d managed to go so long without realizing. Every piece made sense, from his strange presence, to his inability to go into Edelgard’s office without an invitation, to the way that he so utterly lost his composure when Ferdinand pricked his finger. Ferdinand was sure of two things: Hubert was a vampire, and he wanted to suck Ferdinand dry.

  
  


However, despite the clarity of purpose that his research had gotten, the bountiful nature of vampire literature was overwhelming, and often contradictory. Vampires were weakened in the sunlight, unless it was midday, in which case they were stronger, or that was if the sun didn’t completely incinerate them on exposure. Almost every rule had a similar amount of variety across fiction and folklore. There was no good way for Ferdinand to get any strong conclusions out of any of this.

  
  


What Ferdinand did end up with, however, was a list of potential features and vulnerabilities to vampires that he could experiment with. It was an awful lot to try out, though. His vulnerabilities list ran quite long, and ended up overflowing onto the page with his notes about what made vampires hot that he’d written at Flayn’s behest. So, “decapitation” landed on the same line as “neck kissing,” but those sorts of things wouldn’t put too much of a damper on Ferdinand outside of the occasional unfortunate mental images of Hubert in compromising situations.

  
  


Before he could make himself too sick looking over his notes, Ferdinand deigned to leave the library with his findings. On his way out through the towering, brick-walled lobby, he was drawn in by an eye-catching story on the local news display. In the evening following Ferdinand’s dinner with Edelgard and Hubert, a woman had been found murdered in an alley less than a block away from the restaurant. The description of the wounds on her wrists and neck was rather grisly, but Ferdinand couldn’t shake the sense that this was important. It was just too close in location and time.

  
  


Not wanting to ignore potential evidence, Ferdinand went so far out of his way as to buy a copy of the newspaper so that he could clip out the story and stick it in his notebook. He was really roughing it with this particular mission.

  
  


When Ferdinand returned to work after his weekend of fervent vampire research, he felt rather like a madman, viewing the world through a haze of the supernatural. Even attempting to break up his research with a read through of the sequel to that romance novel had done nothing but made him into a _sentimental_ madman. The only point of vampire lore that he’d gotten out of that book that was unique was that vampires were exceedingly good at kissing and apparently didn’t grow chest hair, which were details that were entirely unhelpful, probably not true, and forced more terrible images of Hubert into his head.

  
  


Upon returning to the office, Ferdinand was quick to pick up on the peculiar looks he got from over the cubicles. It took only a few whispered exchanges and raised eyebrows for him to know that his rendezvous with Flayn was common knowledge already.  Not only that, but the assumption seemed to be that he had bedded her that night, which was a bad enough hit to his professionalism as a boss without considering the perception of how freely he gave out sex.  To think that he would ever go so far in one night.

  
  


Ferdinand stuffed his research notes into his filing cabinet to peruse in his free time and idled at his desk for some time, proper work making his eyes glaze over. He peered out to where Flayn’s halo of green hair was visible past the windows of his office, considering what to do with himself. He hesitated to bother her, but eventually he decided to throw caution to the wind; he was already known to the entirety of the office as a sleazy boss and a slut. Not that Edelgard and Hubert’s relationship was any more professional. If anything, Ferdinand would be evening the playing field by openly courting Flayn.

  
  


“ Flayn?” Ferdinand leaned in the doorway to his office and waved Flayn over. As she approached, though bashful, she looked at Ferdinand with such reverence that he couldn’t help but sigh. “Flayn, darling, do you have anything you are doing this Thursday evening?”

  
  


A coy smile crossed Flayn’s lips. Ferdinand was so wrapped up in the thrill of a brand new romance that he had to resist the urge to plant one on her right then and there. “Well,” chirped Flayn. “I do not have anything if you are inviting me to something.”

  
  


“Excellent.” Ferdinand rocked forward on his feet. “What say you to a double date?”

  
  


“Double? With whom?”

  
  


“Edelgard and her own assistant,” Ferdinand said. “To be frank, the two of them are so wholly entangled and inseparable that it frustrates me. It is only necessary that we prove to them that they are not the only ones capable of making people jealous.” Perhaps he was exaggerating, and perhaps the act of dating his assistant wasn’t going to bring Ferdinand any closer to truly upstaging Edelgard, but he was going to use whatever means necessary to feel properly on equal footing with her.

  
  


Flayn’s grin spread wider at Ferdinand’s description. “That sounds quite fun,” she hummed. “Though, I will admit,  this is the first I am hearing of miss Hresvelg having a relationship with her assistant.”

  
  


“They are rather subtle about it, I must admit.” Ferdinand leaned in conspiratorially. “It took some time for me to realize, but once you put the pieces together, everything starts to seem very obvious.”

  
  


“Ah, it sounds like you’ve thought a lot about this,” Flayn giggled.

  
  


Ferdinand shrugged awkwardly. He realized that his surreptitious self-talk from his vampire research had begun to seep into his speech. “Well, everyone loves unraveling a good mystery, yes?”

  
  


“Indeed.”  Flayn popped her hip and fluttered her lashes at Ferdinand. “I think you will find that I contain many a mystery, once you get below the surface. I look forward to being  _unraveled_ .”

  
  


Ferdinand coughed as he suddenly sucked in far too much air. He could feel every single eye in the office on his blazing red face. “Well. That was a  _great_ discussion,” he said to Flayn, raising his voice to be heard through the room. “Now, you ought to get back to  _work_ , so that we can, ah, achieve our goals.” He cleared his throat loudly.

  
  


Flayn raised her eyebrows and joined him in speaking over the cubicles. “Why, yes, boss, I will get right back to that,” she boomed, clearly enjoying herself far too much.

  
  


Before popping back into his office, Ferdinand ducked to whisper to Flayn, “so, just to be clear, we are on for Thursday?”

  
  


“Why, yes, we are,” answered Flayn in a stage whisper, her eyes twinkling.

  
  


“Good. Wonderful.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ferdinand had stayed especially late at the office, making himself look busy by skimming his notes over and over again. No matter how many times he did so, assuring himself that he had the necessary knowledge and wherewithal to pursue this lead, he still felt bone-rattlingly nervous when it came time to follow through.

  
  


During the weekend, Ferdinand had found a way to get in touch with Dorothea, who was willing, after some prying, to give Ferdinand a general schedule of what Edelgard’s, and, by proxy, Hubert’s, weekdays usually looked like. The unfortunate payment for the information was a genuine admission of his curiosity about Hubert, and an additional false admission that he was heart-wrenchingly infatuated with him. As soon as Dorothea had come to that conclusion herself, she refused to help Ferdinand until he agreed with her aloud.

  
  


Nevertheless, that humiliation was just a step on the way to Ferdinand’s ultimate goal. The knowledge of when Hubert would be bringing Edelgard home from the office gave Ferdinand the right idea of a time to _coincidentally_ wrap up his own work and head out himself. When he headed out into the street, it was late enough that the sky was already tinged with dusky orange. A car waited for him at the curb, but no driver, as Ferdinand had no interest in making his help implicit in his unseemly deeds. Should he get in trouble, he would bear the consequences himself.

  
  


Ferdinand buckled in, but lingered, rather than taking right off. He waited, eyes on the doors and hands shaking, for Edelgard and Hubert to finally emerge. Ferdinand all but had a heart attack worrying that he would be seen, but the two paid no notice as they swung around to the parking garage, and Ferdinand was able to round the block to follow them out after getting only somewhat worked up.

  
  


First stop was Edelgard’s home, which was only slightly more extravagant and impressive than his own. Not that she could ever top his weekend home… Shaking his head to refocus, Ferdinand dug through his espionage supplies, which consisted of whatever he could find around the house that may theoretically assist the pursuit of a vampire. He’d scooped up all of the religious items he could get a hold of easily, which consisted of a meager handful of cross necklaces and an old paperback bible. But, anything to make him feel safer in his mission would be worth carrying.

  
  


Ferdinand retrieved a pair of binoculars from his stash and brushed off some of the flaking copper paint on the antique chassis. He attempted to focus the old, smudged lenses on the shapes of Hubert and Edelgard down the road, but the ancient mechanism simply wasn’t having it. Perhaps his housekeeper had meant something when she  said they were for “display only.”

  
  


He wouldn’t let that setback ruin his evening. He still had his eyes, which worked perfectly fine with no assistance. Tossing aside the binoculars, Ferdinand threw the car into drive and allowed it to creep forward until he had a good vantage point.  He watched, squinting into the glare of the setting sun, as Hubert walked with Edelgard to her door and saw her off with a polite kiss on the hand. In the privacy of his car, Ferdinand was able to properly scrunch up his face in disgust at their awkward affections. He wondered if receiving a kiss from Hubert would feel like tonguing a cold cocktail shrimp.

  
  


Ferdinand urged himself to pay attention to the task at hand. He set aside his immature thoughts and kept his eyes on Hubert as he returned to his car, black bridge coat flaring out behind him in a bold shape. It occurred to Ferdinand how much sense it made for a cold-blooded being like him to always need to wear heavy coats and gloves in the dead of summer. With his newly trained eye, Ferdinand would most certainly be able to notice details of that sort as they came up.

  
  


Ferdinand had to push himself to keep a respectable distance as Hubert took off down the road. His erratic driving style led Ferdinand to nearly lose track of him a couple of times in the twists and turns of his peculiar route, but he carried on, catching up whenever he had the chance. He found himself all but licking his lips in anticipation; the idea of getting a juicy look at Hubert’s independent doings.  He was confident that he would discover the most scandalous secrets, enough to prove his theories a billion times over.

  
  


The sky was growing darker by the time that Hubert made his next stop at an unassuming house in a neighborhood with spacious patches of grass between its properties. The potential purposes of this destination whirled through Ferdinand’s head; Hubert would surely be stopping by here to steal away a vulnerable young girl to feast upon, or to scope out potential victims down the line. Or, he could just… unlock the front door to a house and step casually inside. Did he live here?  _Here_ ?

  
  


Ferdinand idled up the street to get closer, sliding under a streetlight so he could see his notes clearly. No matter how much he strained his eyes, he couldn’t see any movement in the house. Of course those tall windows would have black-out curtains; how else would a creature of the night keep out of the sunlight?

  
  


That particular design decision was the only one that made sense, however. What business did a vampire have living somewhere so… suburban? It seemed to clear to Ferdinand that if one was going to commit so thoroughly to the gloomy, all-black fashion, one should go equally all-in on the home. A vampire with no grand, Gothic mansion was like an Old Fashioned with cheap whiskey. Surely, Hubert would be able to get the edge on that sexy vampire appeal if he shacked up in a solitary manor with a balcony on which to brood. It would be located somewhere  that it always storms, and he would graciously welcome in weary travelers who were caught out in the rain, so that he could lead them through long, winding halls until their head spun on which way was out, and he would linger in the guest room with its inviting four-poster bed and he would comment on the victim’s beautiful scarlet hair and by the time that they realize that the seduction was a ploy, the kisses will have already turned into piercing bites… perhaps Ferdinand had been reading too many books.

  
  


Ferdinand perked up when the curtains fluttered to reveal a sliver of yellow interior light. He clawed his way out of his fantasy and back into reality as the curtains were pushed further aside, exposing Ferdinand to a rustic sitting room. The iconic dark shape of Hubert crossed in front of the windows, carrying a tray with a silvery coffee set. Once he plugged in and flipped on the electric kettle, he cast off the distinctive bridge coat and folded it carefully over the back of a chair.

  
  


Delighted to have a proscenium arch through which to observe Hubert’s sinister livelihood, Ferdinand leaned forward in his seat, notebook and pen prepped. How  _thrilling_ this  hunt would be; Ferdinand would get to naturalistically observe Hubert as he… well, as he removed his tie, draped it over his coat, undid the top few buttons on his shirt, and settled in with a thick book. Thrilling.

  
  


The most informative thing Ferdinand got as he watched Hubert lounge about was a repeated, in-depth look at the process with which he prepared his coffee. This had to have been the third time that Hubert had gotten up to reboil his water and make a fresh cup, pouring over the filter over and over again in movements so careful and delicate they were almost reverent.

  
  


Unfortunately, Ferdinand wasn’t here for an intensive coffee tutorial. There appeared to be nothing even resembling vampiric activity occurring in Hubert’s sickeningly mundane sitting room. Ferdinand desperately tried to write  _anything_ new in his notes, to the point of starting a list of the things that he could notice about Hubert without his bulky coat on. He noted that Hubert’s skin, though sallow, was not as completely lacking in pigment as it appeared when framed on all sides by black. He jotted down Hubert’s slender waist, his posture, the frequency with which he massaged at the muscles in his neck. He wondered whether Hubert was born vampiric, or if he had been turned, and wrote a note to himself to check for puncture scars the next time that he was up close. He even went so far as to include that the romance novels’ insinuation that vampires were hairless below the neck was wrong.

  
  


By the time he’d stooped to writing such an inconsequential detail, Ferdinand realized how bored and uncomfortable he’d grown. He’d lost track of how long it had been at this point; it had been dark for some time. The fact that he’d turned to essentially studying Hubert’s physique was enough to make him feel downright absurd. Sure, Hubert  _was_ a terrifying creature of the night, but this scenario pointed to the fact that this was still ultimately just a man on his down time. He had grown far too close to the line between research and  blunt stalking.

  
  


What was he even getting out of this? All Ferdinand had done thus far was partake in inappropriate peering and fantasizing. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d jumped from the conclusion that Hubert was a vampire to one that, since vampires were apparently sexy, Hubert would be similarly so. Sure, he was  _interesting_ to look at, with a face and demeanor unlike any he’d ever seen, but he had to be aware that that was simply the iconic unreal beauty that such creatures used to trick their victims. Ferdinand refused to let himself be tricked. 

  
  


Ferdinand was having more than a little bit of trouble justifying his espionage at this point. Having considered the intrusiveness and ineffectiveness of the outing, he was quickly losing motivation to watch Hubert sitting and reading in his own home.

  
  


Just when Ferdinand was considering taking his leave while he could still get some sleep, Hubert visibly checked his watch and started to shrug his coat back on. Had he something to do? The lights flicked off, and soon Hubert’s car was emerging onto the street.

  
  


Ferdinand shook his head to wake himself up. Nothing normal happened this late at night. This was exactly what he had been longing to see. Yanking the car back into drive, Ferdinand set to pursuing Hubert with renewed determination.

  
  


By the time Hubert arrived at his destination, Ferdinand’s eyes were already drooping from the crashing of his second wind. He only just had the energy to be stunned by the sight of Hubert’s car dipping into the entrance to a hospital. Would he truly stoop so low as to prey on the infirm?

  
  


Ferdinand followed at a crawl as Hubert’s car swung into a mostly empty section of the employee parking lot. He tried to hug close to the tree-lined edges of the lot, frightened of the wide, flat space that Hubert so confidently parked in. When he saw Hubert leave his car, he made the call to slink out of his own vehicle, hoping to get a better vantage point from the cover of a cluster of decorative bushes, where he tried his best to settle himself into the shadows cast by the greenish streetlight overhead.

  
  


A blot of ink in the blue darkness, Hubert crossed the parking lot with a sure stride, approaching an unmarked door that was flush with the back wall of the hospital. He knocked on the door and leaned himself on the wall some distance from it, hands in his pockets. The ease with which he settled into the position, if Ferdinand didn’t know him, he could very easily have walked right past the shadow as if he was just another employee on break. Though,  recalling the way that he couldn’t take his eyes off of Hubert in the bar the first night they encountered each other, he wondered if perhaps his ability to blend in wasn’t as good as it seemed to be.

  
  


After a moment, a streak of light appeared as the door to the hospital cracked open. Hubert leaned forward enough to look inside before pushing off of the wall and slipping inside. Ferdinand mentally marked off the need for an invitation as a confirmed vampire aspect.

  
  


Keeping low to the ground, Ferdinand slid his way across the black parking lot, weaving between cars and trying to stay out of the beams of the lamps. He hoped that his heart wasn’t pounding loud enough to give him away as he pressed himself to the cool concrete wall and sidled along it. Slowly. Carefully. He reached towards the door, hooked a finger in the handle, and pulled.

  
  


It was locked. Huh.

  
  


Ferdinand didn’t have enough time to damn his foolishness. The handle dipped away from his hand as it turned, and golden light was cast on the far side of the wall. With nowhere to hide and his position well past overextended, there was nothing Ferdinand could do but run. He didn’t bother to look back to see anyone emerge from the other side of the door before breaking into the best sprint his _the hardest exercise I do is golfing_ body could give him.

  
  


Ferdinand was certain he was going to be chased the whole way across the lot, but, somehow, he reached his car with no tails in sight. Panting and trembling, Ferdinand got ready to haul ass out of there when he realized that his key wasn’t in the ignition anymore. He swallowed. Patted his pockets. That had been where he’d left it; of that, he was certain. When he looked back to the hospital to search for Hubert, he saw that the man who had emerged from the door was significantly more blond than Hubert.

  
  


Gaping, Ferdinand creaked open his door and eased onto his feet. If there was some stranger over there, then where was Hubert?

  
  


The sound that his head and chest made as they collided with the hood of his car echoed in the empty lot. Ferdinand coughed and gasped, trying to claw a grasp back onto the wind that was knocked out of him. The muscles in his back screamed at him as his arm was strained behind him, held in place by a firm grip.

  
  


“Hubert,” Ferdinand squawked quietly from his empty lungs. “Hubert, listen, I can--”

  
  


“I don’t possess the _patience_ to listen now,” snapped Hubert. He leaned forward, pressing more air out of Ferdinand and hissing his hot, clearly enunciated breath on Ferdinand’s ear. “Now, _you_ , on the other hand, appear to have far too much free time. So it won’t be too much of an imposition to ask that _you_ listen to _me_. First of all, if you are going to tail me, please at least do a halfway decent job of it. I’m embarrassed on your behalf over how obvious you were.” Every single fricative that Hubert hit sent an electric currant down Ferdinand’s nerves.

  
  


Ferdinand squirmed weakly as he tried to catch his breath. Between the pressure of Hubert’s body, the lingering summer humidity, Hubert’s breath on his neck, and his own flush of embarrassment, Ferdinand was absolutely burning up. Trying to move this sticky air would be difficult on a good day, let alone like this. “Hubert, I can’t breathe--”

  
  


With a sudden lurch, Ferdinand was yanked up from off of the hood and spun around so that his back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Second of all,” continued Hubert, his mouth now blessedly far from Ferdinand’s neck. “If you are going to follow me, I beg that you don’t wear _this_ on your person.” Hubert held Ferdinand in place by his shoulder as he pried the hawthorn pin from Ferdinand’s chest and chucked it out into the trees. Ferdinand attempted to object, but Hubert silenced him with a gloved hand on his chin, pushing the back of his head to the glass of the window.

  
  


Ferdinand tried to look anywhere but Hubert’s face, shame tingling in the back of his neck. He focused on Hubert’s collar, tried to catch sight of any potential fang scars in the dips of his neck muscles. Had Hubert not bothered to button his shirt back up when he went out? Ferdinand’s wandering gaze was forced forward when Hubert jostled him harshly. Despite his efforts to resist, Ferdinand’s eyes met Hubert’s. In the strange, cool-toned lighting overhead, all the colors around Ferdinand had turned wrong. The cast of green slid all the hues to elsewhere on the color wheel, turning Hubert’s yellow eyes into an unreal shade of green, and sapping any tone from his skin to leave him as white as the moon above. The image would be stunning if it weren’t so stressful.

  
  


“Third of all,” Hubert growled, the folds in his face casting long, black shadows over his pearly skin. “I cannot begin to imagine any justification for your insistence that you spend your night like this, for _this_ long. Do you not have a company to attempt running, or, god, even some kind of date with your assistant? Don’t make that face; I hear all of the same gossip that you do. Needless to say, you have _plenty_ of things to do with yourself, and instead you are gallivanting around, openly committing crimes with your bright orange hair and expensive car. Either someone put you up to this, or you are truly the most foolish creatures I’ve had the misfortune of encountering.” As Hubert raved, Ferdinand wriggled and craned his neck to see if he could catch sight of the stranger back by the hospital wall. He could almost make out the blond ponytail from across the way; maybe he could call for help. “ _Look_ at me when I am speaking to you,” spat Hubert suddenly, grabbing Ferdinand’s chin once more and forcing him face-to-face with him.

  
  


“ Goodness, Hubert, must you manhandle me so much every time we are alone together?” Ferdinand hissed through gritted teeth, scowling at Hubert as best he could in his breathless, overheated state.

  
  


Hubert’s nostrils flared just enough for Ferdinand to tell that he’d gotten to him, just a bit. “Perhaps, if you could behave yourself, I wouldn’t need to. Erm.” He removed his fingers from Ferdinand’s jaw and pushed them instead against his clavicle. “ _Handle_ you so.”

  
  


“Oh, I should behave myself? Who among us was the one to shove the other  _multiple times?_ ” Ferdinand clicked his tongue and put a hand on Hubert’s forearm. “Glass houses, Hubert.”

  
  


Hubert stopped for a beat, glaring at Ferdinand from under his deep brows. “Fourth,” he said dryly, sidestepping Ferdinand’s comment. “I can only assume that you’ve come out on this misinformed stalking attempt because you have a death wish, because--”

  
  


“You won’t kill me,” groaned Ferdinand. “I know that already. Threats are a waste when you wouldn’t do anything to upset your beloved Edelgard. And she  _likes_ me.”

  
  


“ _If_ you would let me finish,” said Hubert, pushing himself off of Ferdinand in a frustrated huff. Did he think that Ferdinand wouldn’t run away at this point? If he did, then he had far more faith in Ferdinand than Ferdinand had in himself. “You would hear that I am not, in fact, talking about a threat from myself. My work is dangerous, and when you trifle with it like this, you put yourself at incredible risk.”

  
  


Ferdinand furrowed his brow. The sickly green ring around Hubert’s irises seemed to have softened the slightest bit in the shadow. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or his pupils just dilating in the darkness. “What exactly do you mean,  _dangerous_ ?”

  
  


Hubert put a hand to his forehead and sighed hard enough that Ferdinand himself could feel the tension leaving him. “You’re right,” Hubert said in a weary voice. “It kills me to say such a thing, but, you are right. Edelgard is fond of you, undoubtedly so. Perhaps the role of her childhood friend isn’t one that is reserved only for me.” A frown returned to Hubert’s face, hardening his tone once again. “If you were hurt, she would be furious with me. And I’m sure you have seen how she is in that state.”

  
  


“Yeah,” muttered Ferdinand, wincing theatrically. “I understand you on that front.”

  
  


Silence set in for a moment. Slow, humid breezes swept Ferdinand’s hair into his face, and tousled Hubert the slightest bit. The streetlamp flickered, and, in the darkness, Ferdinand heard the jingle of keys. “Get in the car,” Hubert said flatly, placing a hand on Ferdinand’s back to usher him around to the passenger side. “I’m bringing you home before something happens.” Ferdinand acquiesced, too tired to object.

  
  


The ride home was silent. When Ferdinand tried to turn on the radio, Hubert immediately switched it back off. Despite his best efforts, Ferdinand couldn’t help but slouch and pout, feeling like a boy being brought home from the principal’s office. Except instead of his parents in this scenario, he was being driven home by the scary vice principal.

  
  


Ferdinand had grown close to nodding off by the time that they pulled up to his townhouse. The stress of the long, long night had caught up to him all at once, leaving him totally pooped. As he gathered his things, Ferdinand briefly considered inquiring about how Hubert knew where he lived, but he knew any answer he would get would be ominous and unhelpful.

  
  


“Um. Goodnight,” Ferdinand said awkwardly as he got out of the car. Before he could shut the door, however, Hubert put out a hand.

  
  


“I nearly forgot. A fifth thing.” Ferdinand braced for another helping of vitriol, but was instead presented with a gift. One of his credit cards, tucked between Hubert’s gloved fingers. “I implore you to be more attentive,” Hubert said as he passed it off. “You left this at our dinner last week, and I went so far as to go back for it.”

  
  


Ferdinand couldn’t hide his utter shock. “Thank you, Hubert,” he said, holding the card to hist chest. When he watched Hubert leave, a pang of curious, tight emotion made him tense. For a vampire, Hubert was awfully considerate.

  
  



	6. Act 1 Chaper 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand has a bad date night.

Ferdinand hunched over his work desk with a frown, trying to focus through the sleepiness from his long night. He tapped his pen on his frustratingly meager list of findings about Hubert from his tailing. It felt like the little notes he did take were utter nonsense, and simply added up to the fact that Ferdinand had no idea what he was doing. At the bottom of the page, in a frustrated attempt to summarize his thoughts from last night, Ferdinand wrote in big letters, “Hubert is… bothersome and confusing!”

  
  


After setting aside his notes and attempting some plain old work, the quiet of his office began to quickly drive him batty. Being left alone to his own thoughts simply had him replaying and rethinking the events of last night incessantly. He wondered if the softer side of Hubert that he’d glimpsed had just been a face, a ploy to earn Ferdinand’s trust and dissuade him from pursuing his investigations. Or, worse, to persuade him into a fanged trap.

  
  


Ferdinand’s head had grown too crowded to hold his work properly. In an attempt to cleanse his palette, he sought a refreshing presence. “Flayn,” he cooed, waving a hand in the window of his office. “Do you have time to double check these ledgers?”

  
  


Flayn leaned away from her desk to meet Ferdinand’s eye across the way, giving him a palliative smile. “Of course I do,” she chirped.

  
  


Flayn moved to get up from her desk, but Ferdinand waved her back, insisting that he instead cross over to her. He figured that if he could get out of his office, he could leave behind the stressors, as well. “Thank you for all of your help, Flayn; I mean it.” He slid his cat-scratched pages onto her desk and dipped his head in thanks. He was perfectly pleased to watch as Flayn’s fine fingers flicked through the documents, pausing to mark the more egregious errors. He never would have imagined that having his homework corrected could be such a mesmerizing experience.

  
  


“Well, I can only find some mistakes in these, so either you are improving or I am losing my touch,” Flayn said with a giggle, tucking her red pen behind her ear so that it disappeared entirely into her hair. “Truly, though, you are making progress. It seems that all you needed to do was apply yourself.”

  
  


Ferdinand took back his documents and thanked Flayn once more. He paused as he turned away, however, realizing that he dreaded the return to his cold, lonely office. “Hey, Flayn?”

  
  


“Yes?” Flayn’s earnest expressions were always so easy on Ferdinand’s eyes.

  
  


“May I stay and watch you work?”

  
  


Flayn blinked, somewhat taken aback. “Sure.”

  
  


Ferdinand floated over Flayn’s shoulder and placidly watched the fluid, studious dance of her hands across her paperwork. He found himself impressed by the care put into her writing; while his handwriting wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, he often scratched out words in a rush to get to the next task, where Flayn delicately gave every numeral and letter a delicate flair, like she had all the time in the world. With Flayn’s already calming presence, and her even more calming handwriting, Ferdinand was growing sleepy, losing track of everything outside of Flayn’s desk and the rustic scent of her hair.

  
  


Then, a new smell intruded on Ferdinand’s little bubble of bliss. A passing gofer stumbled as he rounded a desk and his cargo of coffees splattered across the carpet. Not that Ferdinand had even noticed that inciting event in his tunnel-visioned state. No, what snapped him out of his haze was the bitter stench of the downed beverages.

  
  


Without realizing it, Ferdinand had constructed a sensory memory attached to the aroma. He so rarely partook in it himself that he hadn’t even recognized the scent when it was woven into the fibers of that bulky black bridge coat. Just a whiff of the stuff was enough to send Ferdinand back to the abandoned office, back to the parking lot, back to being tangled up in whatever awkward grip Hubert could get him into.

  
  


Ferdinand must have been making a face at his unbidden memories, because the poor intern was apologizing profusely to him. Ferdinand assured him that everything was fine and that he wouldn’t get in trouble, all the while needing to put a palm to his forehead to soften the whiplash of flipping his thoughts so suddenly to Hubert, of all people to intrude on his lovely moment.

  
  


When Ferdinand rested a hand on Flayn’s desk to steady himself, Flayn’s hand appeared atop his. “Are you feeling alright, Ferdinand?”

  
  


“Ah, yes, I am just fine,” said Ferdinand with a shake of the head. “The coffee smell is just…” he trailed off and stuck out his tongue.

  
  


“I see.” Flayn squeezed Ferdinand’s hand and caught his gaze with hers. “If you wish, we could always hide away in your office. You know, to get away from the smell.” She finished her suggestion with a wink.

  
  


Ferdinand blushed deeply. He was starting to realize that dating his assistant may have been a bad move for his productivity. “Ah. Well, if you must insist in such a way...”

  
  


Ferdinand yelped when someone cleared their throat just behind him. Spinning to face its source, Ferdinand found himself addressing the gaunt, dark figure of Hubert, ever out of place. Ferdinand wondered if the only place that he could fit in at was a cheap haunted house.

  
  


“Good morning, Hubert,” said Ferdinand, awkwardly stuffing his hands in his pockets. He wanted to say more, to make some kind of small talk, but his head was totally empty. The cloud of coffee stench had to be cutting off his oxygen supply.

  
  


Hubert took his time replying, instead taking a moment to scrape his eyes up and down Ferdinand in a rather exposing way. “Tell me, Ferdinand, do you spend most of your shift having liaisons with your subordinates, or is that how you spend _all_ of it?”

  
  


Ferdinand couldn’t decide whether he wanted to bite his lip or drop his jaw, so his mouth set open in an uncomfortable in-between state. “I--”

  
  


“Actually,” interjected Hubert. “I rescind my earlier statement; you clearly need to have some time reserved in your day for longingly staring at your employees.”

  
  


As if the insulting wasn’t bad enough, that last line had actually gotten a giggle out of Flayn. Huffing, Ferdinand squared his shoulders and looked down his nose at Hubert. “I’m sorry that you are so lonely that you must live vicariously through my romances,” he said with as cruel of a tone as he could manage through the mild betrayal in his system. He’d thought that the events of last night would have softened things between them at least somewhat.

  
  


Hubert hummed through a slight smirk. “Now, I was here to leave you some notes on your employee overview,” he said, eyeing Ferdinand with a half-lidded stare. “But, perhaps if I go ahead and report this rather open office romance, Edelgard may have something to add yet.”

  
  


Ferdinand snorted and snatched the packet of papers from Hubert’s hand. “Give me these.” He scanned the pages briefly to confirm the nature of the documents before stepping back from Hubert. “ _Hypocrite,_ ” he added under his breath, unable to resist the urge to stoop to immaturity in Hubert’s frustrating presence.

  
  


Though Ferdinand had expected Hubert to simply disappear into the wind the way he often did, the looming sense of being stared at didn’t go away. In fact, Hubert seemed to follow him after he turned away. Ferdinand groaned openly when Hubert exhibited the gall to keep talking to him. “May I ask who this poor soul is that you have invited to the quid-pro-quo waltz?”

  
  


“ It is  _not_ \--” Ferdinand sighed. He put out a hand to present Flayn to Hubert and tried to speak as politely as he could, deigning to take the high road. “This is my assistant of some time, Flayn. She will be joining us for our dinner meeting this week. Flayn,” Ferdinand paused and touched Flayn’s shoulder. “This is the Hubert that I mentioned earlier. Edelgard von Hresvelg’s assistant.”

  
  


Flayn offered a hand to shake, her brow creased. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said in a meek voice.

  
  


Hubert adjusted his gloves before shaking Flayn’s hand, and for a moment, neither said a word. Ferdinand backed up somewhat to get away from the thick, unexpected tenison.  Hubert’s eye narrowed to the point that the only indication that they were still open was the tiny fluttering of his lashes. When the handshake concluded, Hubert put his hands promptly behind his back and looked back and forth between Flayn and Ferdinand a few times.

  
  


Following the long silence, an unreadable “It is nice to meet you, Flayn,” was all Hubert had to say.

  
  


Ferdinand swallowed his fear and stepped between the two, noting Flayn’s discomfort. “Is there something else you need, Hubert?”

  
  


A puff of breath that may have been something like amusement came from Hubert’s nose. “No,” he said, his voice low enough to make Ferdinand lean in. “I was just leaving. I do hope you put more care into how you spend your time in the future.”

  
  


Ferdinand stood tall and watched Hubert as long as he could before he was out of sight. He wondered if he would ever be able to have a conversation with him that wouldn’t turn out so queer and antagonistic. He’d gotten so close by deescalating last night, but Hubert seemed dead-set on making not only him but also Flayn miserable.

  
  


“He has quite the off-putting face, does he not?” Flayn peered up at Ferdinand, her eyebrows  still wrinkled.

  
  


“Indeed,” said Ferdinand quietly, looking back in the direction that Hubert had left in. “I am going to go and, erm. Review these notes.” Ferdinand hastily saw himself back to his office, acutely aware of how the lingering smell of coffee was making him feel ill.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Though Ferdinand would not by any stretch call the location that he’d chosen for dinner last week tawdry, that was certainly what it seemed like in comparison to the restaurant that Edelgard picked out. In fact, upon arriving, Ferdinand realized that his destination was a location that he’d passed over many a time before, assuming based on its drab exterior that it wasn’t worth his time. Going through the door was like stepping from night into day. Crystals, marble, velvet, all presented with a grace and class that made even the more old-fashioned aspects of the décor appear cool.

  
  


In addition to being out-performed in terms of venue, Ferdinand found that he hardly even fit into his own party. He’d intended to dress up for what would essentially be his first proper date with Flayn, but his pinstripe peony waistcoat looked downright heinous next to the slick, understated ensembles of Edelgard, and, lord forbid it, even Hubert. For the first time since they’d met, Hubert was out without an oppressive outer layer, pea coat soundly checked. Without the heavy wool weighing his shape down, Hubert looked not just slimmer, but taller as well, in an effect that Ferdinand couldn’t have predicted when he’d glimpsed Hubert coat-less from afar. Along with that, the gold embroidery that ran along his collar drew the eye to his face almost invitingly, though, unfortunately for those who fall for that trick, Hubert’s face was still just as uninviting as always.

  
  


Though Edelgard and Hubert looked far less guarded than they had the week prior, details such as Edelgard’s cross-charmed bracelet and Hubert’s still-present gloves left Ferdinand feeling, at the very least, somewhat out of the loop. He simply hoped that the arrival of his date would bring him some ease the way that she so often did.

  
  


“My, Edelgard, you look absolutely stunning,” remarked Ferdinand, giving her a twirl so that he could properly marvel at her deceptively simple dress. Between the subtle seam-lines and the faint velour on the most significant surfaces, it was safe to say that she was the star of the night. Before he stepped away, Ferdinand paused to fluff up the chestnut hairs that framed her face. “Just fantastic. I do hope I’m not embarrassing you two with my glitzy ensemble. I suppose I hadn’t gotten the dress code.”

  
  


Edelgard put up a hand. “You look wonderful, Ferdinand. We do not need to all look identical.”

  
  


Ferdinand gave a faux bashful smile and tottered his head back and forth, more than happy to soak up a few compliments. “I must admit, you’re right. It would be awfully boring if we matched.” Acting almost entirely on instinct, he poised himself and pulled for more praise. “What do you think, Hubert? It being a date night and all, I tried to spring for something, dare I say it, sexy?”

  
  


When Ferdinand turned to look back at Hubert, flipping his perfumed hair, he found that Hubert was frowning even more than usual. “If you want me to say you look good, you shouldn’t hold your breath.” With how tightly Hubert was clenching his fists, Ferdinand wondered if there was room for blood to flow in his fingers. Though, did he even have blood? “That is, unless it is the only thing that can get you to stop your prancing.”

  
  


Edelgard swatted Hubert on the stomach, thus concluding the unfortunate sideshow that had begun to transpire. “Need I remind you, Ferdinand, that this is not a date night. You shouldn’t take things so lightly.” The discomfort that Ferdinand had been so excited to watch crawling across Hubert had jumped off of his skeletal acquaintance and onto him, instead. “Now, if I may ask, when do you expect your assistant to get here?”

  
  


Ferdinand pinched up his face and glanced at his watch. She was late. Not too inappropriately late, but late. Ferdinand tried not to get caught up in how his girlfriend’s tardiness reflected on him. “I am sure she will be here soon,” he said. “If you wish to go ahead and start, we can be seated and I will text her that she may meet us in the dining room.”

  
  


“Very well,” said Edelgard. “Let’s go.”

  
  


Hubert took up the rear and heckled Ferdinand during the walk to their table. “My, my, some gentleman, leaving his date to find her way here herself.”

  
  


Ferdinand tried to retain his grace and composure, seating himself with a flourish. “I assure you, I offered many a time to take her, but she insisted, nay, demanded that I let her find her own ride.” He leaned back and followed Hubert intently with his eyes. “In the end, it is not my choice to make. I may be a gentleman, but I am no misogynist.”

  
  


In an unusual change of the power dynamics, Hubert seemed less keen on holding eye contact with Ferdinand tonight. Not that that bothered Ferdinand in any way. He was looking forward to the opportunity to check his phone for any word from Flayn without worrying about that awful sensation of being constantly monitored when he wasn’t looking Hubert’s way. Although, he did get that feeling a couple of times, ghostly and presumably unreal, since Hubert was never looking when he checked.

  
  


“Ferdinand, I think it’s about time that we order our food,” said Edelgard after a few awkward brush-offs of the waiter.

  
  


Ferdinand was still certain that Flayn was just put upon with some inconvenience that she would soon surpass. She would simply be a little late. He was convinced enough of this stance to hazard some rudeness. “You may go ahead and order for yourself, if you wish,” he said, sliding out of his seat. “I am going to try to call her again.”

  
  


Somewhere in his mind, Ferdinand knew that he was making a fool of himself, disappointing his associates with his behavior. But, he’d built this night up so much to himself, and Flayn’s absence was entirely pulling the rug out from under him, leaving him in the head space for neither a date nor a business meeting.

  
  


As another call went through to voicemail, Ferdinand tried to come up with reasons for Flayn’s failure to arrive. He paced the echoing men’s restroom, wondering if she was busy with some imposition from that pushy brother she’d mentioned. Perhaps all of those late nights had gotten her behind on sleep, and she’d unwittingly nodded off to a silent phone blinking his name just aside her bed. One more missed call. He tried again. She couldn’t be out with some other guy, could she?

  
  


Ferdinand put that thought out of his head right away and left another hopeful voicemail. Setting his phone on the edge of the sink, he studied himself in the mirror, smoothed down the wavy fly-away hairs that had started to rebel. The only thing that made him frizz out more than humidity was stress, and this evening already had both of those in spades. After a few attempts to smooth out his strands, he gave in and loosened the ribbon that held his half-braid in place. After he’d put so much care into making it perfect, he’d already wasted his effort with his own neuroticism.

  
  


Ferdinand sighed, tied his hair back into a loose ponytail, and steeled himself. He considered washing his face to ease the building sweat, but decided that he wasn’t about to sacrifice his makeup as well. On the walk back to the table, he held himself as straight and tall as he could. He had no reason to let the night be ruined yet.

  
  


Edelgard gave him a soft look as he sat back down. “I got you something light,” she said. “I didn’t want you to go hungry in addition to all of this.”

  
  


“All of this,” Ferdinand said with a laugh that didn’t even convince himself. “There is no _all_ going on for you to worry a hair on your head about, Edelgard. It is just a matter of patience.”

  
  


“Perhaps she has found someone less repugnant,” said Hubert coldly.

  
  


“Hubert,” warned Edelgard.

  
  


“You see, that cannot possibly be true,” said Ferdinand, taking an improperly large sip of his wine. “Because the only person  out there that might conceivably be better than I is Edelgard, and she is right here! And I do not think her the sort to settle for less.” The more he said positive words, the closer he got to breaking past the dark cloud that had become his reality.

  
  


Hubert narrowed his eyes, creasing lines in his cheeks. “How optimistic,” he remarked in a low, rumbling tone. “Though, I hear people often like to have partners who live on this plane of reality.”

  
  


“Hubert.”

  
  


“Really, at least I try,” snapped Ferdinand. “If I had to date you, I would have to get used to behaving as if I were constantly on my way to a funeral procession.”

  
  


Hubert’s hands dug into the table, bunching the white cloth under his fingertips. “If I were to be put up for a date with you, I would have run for the hills by now, never to look back.”

  
  


“Hubert, that is well past enough.” Edelgard’s firm voice demanded that all attention default to her. “You, as well, Ferdinand. You don’t need to encourage him.”

  
  


Ferdinand let out a breath, long and slow, through his nose. “I apologize, Edelgard,” he said shortly. “If you’ll excuse me, I am going to try calling Flayn again.”

  
  


As Edelgard watched Ferdinand stand once more, a tired shadow fell over her lavender eyes. “Very well.”

  
  


Ferdinand was well aware as he walked back to the bathroom of how little had actually gotten done in terms of business at this meeting. The last thing he wanted to do was stop up productivity with his feelings, but it was impossible to keep himself focused and composed with Hubert  taking such cruel pot-shots at him. To his credit, he had seemed especially tense tonight, but that was not reason enough for the vindictive behavior.

  
  


Ferdinand propped himself on the marble sink counter and dialed, hung up, dialed, again and again. He didn’t bother leaving voicemails at this point. Every missed call was a blow to the last of his faith. He knew long before this moment that he wouldn’t get an answer, but he’d been completely unwilling to admit it to himself. The image in his head of Flayn asleep in her bed morphed into one of her wrapped up with some stranger. He considered for a moment just driving to her house to confront her directly, but he realized that he didn’t even know her address. Maybe he could just… try knocking on doors randomly, in a neighborhood that he knew was dangerous. He wasn’t sure if the idea came about as a joke or as a serious option.

  
  


Ferdinand made long, contemplative eye contact with his reflection. At least he could go back to the table looking halfway decent and put together. No one needed to know. He could just lie and say that she got back to him with an illness, or some other excuse.

  
  


His hope for putting on a front melted away when an errant tear rolled down his cheek, black with makeup, despite his best efforts to hold it in. Ferdinand nearly blew out his lungs sucking in breaths to bottle the potential sobs back up. He would finish this night. He would push through. With a damp towel, Ferdinand dabbed off what he could of the telltale streak on his face and smoothed out what was left underneath.

  
  


This return was far, far more difficult than the others. Ferdinand didn’t bother to look either of his associates in the eye as he sat, downed the rest of his wine, and poked meekly at the appetizer that Edelgard had ordered him. Cold. Tasteless. If it were still warm, it would have been a wonderful dish to share.

  
  


“Ferdinand,” said Edelgard trepidatiously.

  
  


“ I have never in my life been stood up.” Ferdinand was too weary to correct his hunched posture or his frank words. “I honestly don’t know what to do.”

  
  


The pitiful look on Edelgard’s face just made Ferdinand feel pathetic. “Ferdinand,” she said. “Do you want to go home?”

  
  


Ferdinand took a breath, held it, and straightened his spine. “I will be okay,” he said, attempting some proper eye contact. While Edelgard looked at him with sympathy, Hubert’s face was entirely unreadable. Ferdinand was just grateful that his commentary had stopped.

  
  


Edelgard tented her hands on the table. “Maybe I should rephrase. Ferdinand, you should go home.”

  
  


“No, no, I...” Ferdinand stopped when he felt another tear ripple out of his eye. “I will go home.”

  
  


On the way out, Edelgard was supportive and helpful, calling a ride, waiting at the door with him, even taking his report off his hands to look over later. Hubert, meanwhile, was… present. The discomfort of Hubert’s surely judgmental eyes on the back of his neck as he sat on the curb was only making Ferdinand certain that he wouldn’t start feeling better until he was home alone.

  
  


When the car arrived, Edelgard gave him a friendly shoulder squeeze and saw herself away. Ferdinand could feel Hubert’s presence lingering, but he ignored it, until he felt a hand, barely there, on his back as he got into the car. The same touch from that night in the lot, just as stilted and strange, but the intent comforted Ferdinand the slightest bit. If this was as gentle as such a cruel soul could be, he would be fine with taking what he could get. Ferdinand held his throat tight and kept his crying inside as he watched the black blur linger on the sidewalk until he was out of sight.

  
  



	7. Act 1 Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand isn't doing great, and he's certainly not prepared for when the truth finally comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that!! We made it to the end of act one! Thank you all for sticking with me through it! I'll be quick in getting act two started and rolling, so don't worry one bit about being left hanging for too long. I think y'all will like it.

Ferdinand’s phone blinked with two alerts when he crawled out of bed the following morning. A text from Edelgard, two hours ago: “Will you be coming into work today, Ferdinand?” and another from his golfing buddy, simply reading “Tee time?” Ferdinand knew who of those two he was more frightened of letting down, and yet, he _had_ canceled on golf last week, so it only seemed fair…

  
  


Ferdinand blearily responded to Edelgard’s message with a “No. Sorry,” before creaking his way to his feet. Perhaps she would understand; there was no way that he could just go into work and face Flayn as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t like he could avoid his own assistant at the office.

  
  


No, there was simply no way that he could partake in such a shameful experience. Instead, Ferdinand would let out his stress and leave his worries and research behind at the office. It wasn’t like anything there really needed his help to work properly, anyway. And he would grow rusty if he let another day pass without a club in his hands.

  
  


So, that was how Ferdinand spent his morning. And afternoon. When he’d parted ways with his buddy and started on his way home, the thoughts of all of his neglected responsibilities came creeping in, and he had to crawl back to the green to distract himself once more, going it solo and focusing on nothing but the weight of his club in his hands and how best to get his average on hole eight down.

  
  


In the downtime after his day of sporting, Ferdinand parked his sore behind at his desk at home, almost on autopilot. He was searching for something to do, so he wouldn’t be so useless. Something to distract. But, his options were limited. His research made him wonder what Hubert thought of his slacking, and his office work brought thoughts of Flayn. Neither brought him any comfort.

  
  


Ferdinand considered the option of drinking his feelings at the local bars, but he couldn’t shake the fear of somehow running into Hubert the way he had  when they first encountered one another. It wasn’t worth the risk. Instead, Ferdinand gathered the best liquor he had quick access to and escaped to his weekend home. Hitching a long ride in the dead of night from his most loyal, dreadfully overworked driver, Ferdinand graciously shared the drinks with said driver and the housekeepers, lest they be too bothered by his dropping by. 

  
  


Ferdinand felt properly geared up to recuperate at his weekend home; he had fresh air, dense forest as far as the eye could see, his best alcohol, relative silence, and even the companionship of the old, bumbling basset hound that he’d had in his youth. The familiar, saggy face, though tinged with gray, brought Ferdinand a nostalgic sort of comfort that he hadn’t realized he’d missed. With all of the coziness he could have ever wanted, isolated from all of the tragedy of his life in the city, Ferdinand had to wonder why he still felt so crummy.

  
  


Though he tried to relax over the weekend, Ferdinand felt as though he simply couldn’t properly settle. In the space between breaths, the voices of Edelgard, Flayn, and even Hubert rang in his conscience. Always just under the surface, they waited for the quiet to set into Ferdinand’s mind to give them room to creep in and remind him of all of the things he was neglecting.

  
  


Ferdinand tried to chase the voices away with drink, though they often grew louder before they quieted. In the drunken stupor of the nights, Ferdinand had apparently constructed a whole fantasy around the idea of turning his secluded weekend house into a brooding vampire mansion, presumably in an effort to provide Hubert with what he so sorely lacked. The details of this fit were hazy, but Ferdinand did wake up to a home décor catalog with all of the most ‘gothic’ seeming items circled in red. He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d ordered them or not. 

  
  


In addition to his drunken interior design, Ferdinand was told by the housekeepers about a series of elaborate soliloquies he went on regarding the inherent romanticism and sexuality of vampires. He had been adamant about his plan of converting the house into a vampire home, claiming the gloomy environment of the surrounding forest to be the ideal climate, and openly fantasizing about the delights that he would take part in with his blood-drinking partner. It wasn’t clear to Ferdinand at first whether this was some vampiric partner that he’d dreamed up, or if he’d been referring to a certain someone. The answer came when Ferdinand realized that he had to retrieve his phone from a housekeeper, as it had been hidden away. Apparently, he’d left enough deeply invasive drunken voicemails to Hubert that he called back and demanded that Ferdinand lock up his cell for the night to prevent any more embarrassment.  As for the content of those voicemails, that would remain a mystery to all but Hubert.

  
  


Now that he had a fear of encountering Flayn, Edelgard,  _and_ Hubert at the office, Ferdinand had every reason to stay out in the sticks when the week began anew. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was that made him bite the bullet and go back to the city. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that the looming guilt would inevitably prevent him from getting any real enjoyment out of his seclusion. Perhaps he didn’t want to run the risk of leaving any more misguided voicemails. Whatever it was, Ferdinand found himself heading back on Monday, even going so far as to turn up at the office after the day had started. And he’d only needed to give himself one early morning Bloody Mary to work up the courage to do so.

  
  


Ferdinand made an effort to hide his nerves by dressing sharp, draping himself in all golds and reds and doing up his hair in a look that leaned far closer  to  _business-extravagant_ than  _business-casual_ . He was only slightly motivated to doll himself up by the idea that Flayn would be subjected to seeing just how much of a man she had missed out on. He would show her just how composed, confident, and classy he was in recovering from the trauma of Thursday night.

  
  


Except there was no one there at her desk to show off to. When Ferdinand asked around, the consensus was that she hadn’t been around the office since the last time Ferdinand had seen her. That gave him pause. There was no way that she would just suddenly drop a job that she clearly liked, no notice, no call. Ferdinand had worried somewhat about being too inappropriate with her, but he didn’t thing anything he’d done was bad enough to warrant her running away. Ferdinand found it hard not to blame himself.

  
  


Though Ferdinand tried to put his nose to the grindstone and power through, to get something of worth done, his focus was entirely dashed, both by the mystery of Flayn’s absence and by his abject fear at the thought of facing Edelgard or Hubert again. Ferdinand found himself wondering if Flayn had fallen victim to her bad neighborhood. On his office computer, Ferdinand poked curiously around online resources for local news and law enforcement reports. Nothing turned up. Not in the news, not on the scanners, not even in the obituaries, which he loathed to even consider. Missing persons, nothing. Local Facebook pages, nothing. It couldn’t be possible for someone like her to just drop off the face of the earth. She had to be somewhere. Dead in a ditch, tied up in a basement, stuffed into the back of a car. Ferdinand couldn’t hold back his headlong assumptions.

  
  


As he looked at the most bleak, terrifying new articles he’d been able to get his hands on, feeding the vicious cycle of fear the he’d gotten himself into, Ferdinand recalled a piece of the same nature the he’d found some time back. Uncovering his research notebook from the depths of his filing drawer, Ferdinand flipped to his destination in a swift movement: the newspaper clipping from the night of the first dinner meeting. He’d almost completely forgotten the brutality of the murder, the sheer level of violence that had happened so close to where he had been that night, both in time and in location. Far too close.

  
  


Ferdinand felt his gut drop.  Where this piece of evidence had been a linchpin in his theory about Hubert’s nature when he’d found it before, he had grown comfortable in his on-the-fence position on the matter in the days following. His interactions with Hubert had been mixed since then, but they often trended calmer, pleasant, even. He’d been waiting for Hubert’s truly dark side to show, but instead he was faced with a man that, while cold at times, held the capability for compassion. That he was willing to offer some comfort to Ferdinand after he’d stooped so low as to stalk him…

  
  


Recalling that night put all of Ferdinand’s doubts on hold. He’d written off the outing as an overall failure, a waste of time that he spent watching Hubert make coffee over and over again before getting lectured rather intensely. But, after all of that, Hubert had returned his credit card to him,  all while practically admitting to the murder. He’d gone back to the restaurant for it. He said that right to Ferdinand’s face, and Ferdinand had sat there batting his eyelashes as if Hubert had really helped him out of the kindness of his heart.

  
  


Ferdinand flipped through his notes frantically. He wanted to find some contradiction. Something that would make it untrue. But his imagination ran more wildly than his eyes could keep up with, and all that he could think of was Flayn, poor Flayn, trussed up somewhere in a cold crypt while Hubert circled her with hungry eyes. Could she be dead already? Could she be turned by now? Or was she being used as a blood bank for Hubert to use as he pleased? Surely youthful blood, optimistic blood like hers was the kind most sweet. How many times now had Hubert placed fangs to the tender skin of her neck, partaking in the most forbidden drink of life…

  
  


Oh, my. Ferdinand fanned himself and cast away his scenario with a shake of the head. A glimpse of his mind during his drunken antics had managed to sneak into his conscious head space for a moment. It seemed he’d tricked himself into growing quite fond of the cliches he’d worked so hard familiarizing himself with.

  
  


Forcing himself back on track, Ferdinand stood and drove himself through the door of his office, gathering momentum on his way out. He knew that, despite his playful partaking in the more fictional aspects of this topic, the real threat of human life wasn’t something to be left ignored. At first, Ferdinand thought to lunge his way right up the stairs to Edelgard’s office, but he hesitated on the steps. No need to do something so drastic as to get Hubert’s attention.

  
  


Missing the presence of an assistant, Ferdinand caught the attention of the nearest cubicle worker  and asked them to phone Edelgard’s desk. As he waited for the put-upon employee to be patched through, Ferdinand tried hard not to fidget with his whole body, though all of his limbs buzzed with manic energy.

  
  


Hand on the receiver, the worker looked up at Ferdinand. “I’ve got Dorothea.”

  
  


“Good.” That meant Hubert was out of the office. “This is rather time sensitive,” said Ferdinand, feet pointed towards the stairwell. “Tell her I’ll be right up.”

  
  


Ferdinand used the full length of his strides to cross the office floor as quickly as possible without openly sprinting. Up the stairs he bound, two steps at a time, and for a moment he was transported back to when he crossed paths with Hubert at the office, before he even knew  _who_ Hubert was. Now, finally, all of that suspicious activity was justified with a sound conclusion.

  
  


Ferdinand burst forth onto Edelgard’s floor and wound through rows of cubicles to reach her office as quickly as possible. Dorothea, who waited at the door, stopped him so suddenly that he nearly ran right through her.

  
  


“I don’t know what this is,” she said. “But it has to wait. She’s in a meeting right n-- hey!”

  
  


Before she could react, Ferdinand was off. He caught sight of Edelgard among the windowed conference rooms, and met her eye. She gave him a small, blissfully ignorant smile to address him, likely believing that she would get to him as soon as she was done. But Ferdinand didn’t intend to wait.

  
  


Discussing voices hurriedly hushed as Ferdinand pushed open the door and leaped across the long room to where Edelgard stood at its head. Ignoring her furious expression, he clutched her arm and guided her behind the easel-mounted poster board of whatever graphs she’d been showing to her associates.

  
  


“Ferdinand!” Edelgard fumed so hotly that he was sure steam would come out of her nostrils. “What on  _earth_ are you--”

  
  


“Listen, I am terribly sorry for all of this, but I can’t let it wait one moment longer.” Edelgard’s enraged expression grew seasoned with some confusion as Ferdinand took both of her hands. “I need to tell you the truth, even if you probably don’t wish to hear it: Hubert is...” he paused and shot a look back to the confused businessmen lining the conference table. He lowered his voice before finishing: “a  _vampire_ .” 

  
  


Edelgard’s eyes were wide, but she seemed far more stunned then frightened. “Ferdinand, that is…” she paused and chewed her lip. “A very serious claim to make.”

  
  


Ferdinand worried his brow and squeezed Edelgard’s hands tighter. He spoke as invigoratingly as was possible while keeping his voice low. “It is the truth, Edelgard. The signs, they are undeniable. And he is _dangerous_ \--”

  
  


“Are you drunk?” The tinge of disgust in Edelgard’s expression shot Ferdinand straight through his heart.

  
  


Ferdinand hesitated, regretted the drink he’d started the day with to get past his hangover. He could barely feel it at all at this point, but it still wasn’t exactly a good look on him. “I most certainly was not when I composed this thesis.”

  
  


His answer clearly displeased Edelgard. “Listen, unless you have some real evidence regarding this, I must--”

  
  


“I do! I do.” Ferdinand struggled to keep his voice at a responsible volume. He had to struggle to hear himself over his thrumming heart beat. “Give me just a moment. I can go and get my evidence.”

  
  


“Very well,” said Edelgard after a long, painful pause. “I will finish my meeting in the meantime.”

  
  


Ferdinand struggled to catch his breath after going all the way back down the stairs to return to his office. He braced himself for yet another set of stairs as he set his hand on his notebook where he left it and…

  
  


His notebook was gone. Ferdinand overturned the papers on his desk, dug through his drawers, left paper crumpled on the floor. It was nowhere to be found. He was knelt on the floor in a complete daze, wondering what to do next, when a shadowy form blocked the light from outside his office. Oh, no.

  
  


“Edelgard wants you for something,” said Hubert cryptically. “We will see you outside.”

  
  


“I’m not going with  _you_ ,” sneered Ferdinand, his stomach turning with newly refreshed disdain for Hubert.

  
  


“Then you will go with me.” Edelgard stepped out from Hubert’s shadow and addressed Ferdinand with a cold stare. “This is not negotiable, Ferdinand.”

  
  


Ferdinand expected handcuffs, ropes, a bag on his head, maybe even chloroform. But once he got to his feet, Edelgard and Hubert simply walked with him to the lobby and out the door. To all the others at the office, they would look like a relatively normal group going about their business, stepping out for lunch, and, though Ferdinand considered crying out or making a scene, he thought it best for his reputation that that be all they think.

  
  


Out on the street, Ferdinand found himself weighed down by the midday sun. The tall, steely buildings felt more like a cage than ever. During the walk into the cold, dim parking garage, Ferdinand tried to guess at where he must be going. A mental institution? A real vampire mansion? Perhaps they would simply toss Ferdinand into Edelgard’s basement and let him rot. Edelgard had enough money, enough power to make Ferdinand disappear with only a little bit of trouble.

  
  


There wasn’t enough time for Ferdinand to come to a satisfying conclusion. Already, they were at Edelgard’s car. The doors were opened, Ferdinand crawled passively, numbly inside, and there was that blasted hand on his back from Hubert again. Was that some kind of joke? Some spell? At this point, Ferdinand knew it couldn’t be genuine kindness.

  
  


Ferdinand hazarded an attempt to slip out of the car as it curved around the zigzag of the garage, but, once he worked up the courage to try, the handle of his door did nothing. He yanked a few more times, sure that he was doing something wrong, when Edelgard clicked her tongue from her spot next to him.

  
  


“Hubert,” she said. “I thought I told you to get the child locks disabled.”

  
  


Hubert simply shrugged, his form turning into just a silhouette as the dark ceiling of the garage gave way to blue sky. “It is practical now, is it not?”

  
  


Edelgard sighed at that, and put a pitying hand on his shoulder which he furiously shrugged off, deigning to kick the back of Hubert’s seat petulantly as an alternative to his escape. “Ferdinand,” said Edelgard. “I know things seem rather dire, but--”

  
  


“Edelgard, you are making an  _enormous_ mistake,” Ferdinand cut in. Though he’d focused hard on biting his tongue until now, the pressure was quickly growing too intense for him to keep quiet. And by addressing him directly, Edelgard pushed him to completely uncork his objections. “ You might not want to face it, I know; he’s an old friend of yours, but, this man, no, this  _beast_ is capable of-- he’s terrifying… he  _took Flayn_ !”

  
  


“I need you to calm down, Ferdinand.” Edelgard’s voice was firm.

  
  


“ _Calm down?_ ” Ferdinand threw his hands out as far as he could in the cabin of the car. “My girlfriend has disappeared, and it’s all because of this  _thing_ you keep around. Great move, by the way.” Every time he mentioned Hubert, he drove a foot, knee, or fist into the leather in front of him. “Suggesting that she ran away at dinner? I can’t believe you thought that would get me off of your tail.”

  
  


Hubert’s composure was as steely as it ever was. “That comment was genuine insight, actually. I was suggesting that a relationship with you--”

  
  


“Don’t you try and rationalize,  _Hubert_ .” Ferdinand chewed on his name like it was the most repulsive thing to ever fall from his lips. “I have your number now. And it’s because you were  _sloppy_ .”

  
  


“Sloppy?” Hubert chortled, a sound that completely rattled Ferdinand. “You should talk.” He popped up the top of the center console and flashed Ferdinand’s notebook before tucking it away once more. Ferdinand tried to pounce on the console, but he was too slow to reach it before it closed. Hubert’s gloved palm came upon Ferdinand’s forehead and stuffed him back into his seat. Ferdinand retaliated by wreaking havoc on Hubert’s back.

  
  


“Devil!” Ferdinand whaled on the leather, hands and feet, like a child in the midst of a tantrum. “Murderer! Bloodsucker! Beast!” Edelgard attempted to lay pacifying hands on Ferdinand, but Ferdinand didn’t have any of it.

  
  


With a sigh, Edelgard turned to Hubert. “Hubert, do you want me to drive?”

  
  


“Oho, and sit next to him so that he can instead assault my body?” Hubert snorted. “I’ll pass.”

  
  


Edelgard’s brow creased with disgruntlement as she continued to try to push Ferdinand against his seat. “Listen, if we--” she trailed off as Ferdinand cried another string of insults at Hubert. “Ferdinand!”

  
  


Hearing not just a yell, but a full-on holler from Edelgard gave Ferdinand no choice but to pause. He was still truly frightened of her in an intimate way that Hubert’s beastliness could never touch.

  
  


“Ferdinand, if I told you that neither I nor Hubert know where Flayn is, would you settle down?” Though her words were shaped like a suggestion, her tone told Ferdinand that it was a command.

  
  


“Maybe,” said Ferdinand weakly. “But why on earth would I trust  _him_ on this? Of course he wouldn’t admit to kidnapping an innocent woman.”

  
  


“You trust me, don’t you?” asked Edelgard. She met Ferdinand’s gaze steadily, intensely.

  
  


Ferdinand wanted to remain cold, pull away and discard his faith in her entirely on account of her complacency in her vampiric assistant. How could she be the same Edelgard he knew so well if she was spending her free time aiding and abetting a bloodsucker? But he knew the truth, and he knew that it would take some truly continental events for his trust in Edelgard to be shaken. “Yes, I do.”

  
  


Edelgard put a supportive hand on Ferdinand’s knee. “Well, I can say truthfully that I don’t know Flayn’s fate right now. And Hubert?”

  
  


“I know not where your girlfriend has gone,” said Hubert tersely.

  
  


“And  _I_ trust Hubert. So, there you have it.” Edelgard leaned back in her seat and watched the road ahead. When she spoke to Ferdinand again, she was sympathetic, solemn, even. “Neither of us had anything to do with Flayn’s disappearance. So you need not blame Hubert for it.”

  
  


There was no way this was ever going to sit well with Ferdinand. But, as he looked out the window to the wholly unfamiliar scenes blurring by, he knew that he wasn’t going to be getting anywhere unless he played along. “Very well. But, that still leaves all of the suspicious activity that I’ve noticed completely unexplained.”

  
  


Edelgard tipped her head and gritted her teeth. “Yes, well. I haven’t had a look at this supposed evidence yet, but Hubert has skimmed it. He can probably explain some of the major points.”

  
  


“Thank you for the invasion of privacy, by the way,” huffed Ferdinand.

  
  


“You were going to show it to me anyway, weren’t you?” Edelgard’s thin eyebrows arched high.

  
  


“But not without my being present and certainly not so you could pass it off to Hubert!”

  
  


“Ferdinand, did you really think that this would go by without Hubert’s eyes ever landing on it?”

  
  


Ferdinand balked. “I thought that you would understand the seriousness of the matter! He is a  _vampire_ . And not a seductive, literary vampire – a real, bloodsucking fiend!”

  
  


A look set into Edelgard’s face that could only be read as pity. “Hubert, pull aside. I’m going to drive the rest of the way.”

  
  


Hubert was always cloaked in enough layers of facade to give Ferdinand a hard time reading him, but the droop of his shoulders at Edelgard’s request was clear. “Yes, Edelgard.”

  
  


Ferdinand found himself tensing as the car slowed and parked on the curb. He wondered if this could be an opportunity. Hubert and Edelgard had a hushed but intense conversation just outside. On either side, Ferdinand couldn’t see anything past featureless brick walls. He would have to make do and use the element of surprise  to bolt. 

  
  


Slowly, as to not rock the car, he reached across the front seats and pawed around the glove compartment. He knew it was in here…

  
  


When Hubert opened the back door to get in next to him, Ferdinand struck. With the minuscule amount of exposed flesh he had to work with, Ferdinand moved to brandish the rosary at his face, cross tucked between his fingers. He could use the repulsion of the crucifix to wrangle his way past Hubert and…

  
  


Hubert didn’t even flinch. Before the cross made contact, Hubert unblinkingly clutched Ferdinand’s wrist and wrenched the rosary from his fingers. “Give me that,” he hissed, stuffing it into his coat pocket and pushing Ferdinand back into his seat, where he flopped, dazed. “When will you get past this fantasy of yours?”

  
  


Ferdinand opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I suppose it will be when you prove to be, beyond a doubt, that it isn’t true.”

  
  


Hubert scoffed, dug the rosary from his pocket. He pressed the silver cross against his face, then rolled up his sleeve to touch it to his pale wrist. “See? No burning, nothing.” He rolled his sleeve back down and braced himself against the back of the passenger seat as the car lurched back into motion. “Do you want me to eat garlic next? Holy water? Do you wish to truss me to a chair and attempt to sustain me on drops of blood alone for a few months?”

  
  


With each sarcastic suggestion, Hubert grew a bit closer to Ferdinand, his frustrated stare amplifying Ferdinand’s shame and embarrassment exponentially. “Ah, I, um.” A burst of warmth came across his already flushed face from Hubert’s breath. How had he not noticed that before? “But--”

  
  


With a hearty clunk, the car’s left wheels went into a substantial pothole and lurched both Ferdinand and Hubert to the side. A sharp spike of pain flooded Ferdinand’s frontal lobe as Hubert’s forehead bounced against his, an unfortunate result of his proximity-based intimidation. The silver cross’s edges dug into Ferdinand’s palm where Hubert’s hand sought balance on him, rosary still tangled in his fingers. A wash of coffee smell filled Ferdinand’s nose. And as Hubert pulled himself back up, there was a haze of red across his face. Could vampires blush? If the insistence from before wasn’t enough, that sight was enough to make Ferdinand truly doubtful of his theory.

  
  


Ferdinand steadied himself and rubbed the little pink creases in his palm from the impression of the cross. Next to him,  Hubert flexed his hand open and shut as if he had strained it and stared down Edelgard in the rear mirror. “With all due respect,” said Hubert with a wire-thin voice. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I do hope that you will be safer with your driving thus forward.”

  
  


Edelgard’s hands played out on the steering wheel in something like a shrug. “It isn’t my fault if no one wears their seat belt.”

  
  


Hubert sucked in a breath through his nose,  smoothed his clothes down, and buckled up. “Nevertheless,” he said, looking straight ahead. “I think that we have fully discounted your asinine vampire theory, so that ends our discussion.”

  
  


Ferdinand blinked and looked around, as if seeking an explanation from the windows. “I’m sorry, but it most certainly does not!” He leaned towards Hubert, attempting to get him to meet his eyes, but backed off when he realized that the smell of coffee was making him woozy. Hand on his heart to steady its frantic beats, he continued: “There are still countless mysteries that you have yet to explain. What about the woman that you  _murdered_ ?”

  
  


“Pardon?” That got Hubert to turn to him.

  
  


“You know as well as I do what I am talking about. That girl died the night we were but a block away, after you had supposedly returned for my credit card. But that wasn’t what brought you back, was it?”

  
  


Hubert dodged Ferdinand’s eyes. There was still a sheen of warm tone on his face that made Ferdinand sure that he had him backed against the wall. “If I must be honest, your belongings were far from my mind when I went back. I simply picked it up on the way.”

  
  


Ferdinand waited, eyebrows arched, for the rest of Hubert’s explanation. “Well?  _What_ did you go back there for?”

  
  


“It was for a job I had to do,” said Hubert evasively.

  
  


“What  _job?_ ”

  
  


“Hubert, you should just tell him,” said Edelgard from the front, her voice flat. “We’re already on our way to the place.”

  
  


Hubert’s lips parted for a moment  in an offended stare, but he replaced his mask quickly. Outside of the car, brick facades had given way to swaths of gravel and wire fence. Ferdinand felt unsafe, not unlike he’d taken a wrong turn on his way through the city. He wondered how long it would take to come across a ruffian with a firearm out here.

  
  


“Fine,” said Hubert after a long pause. “Ferdinand, though I am remiss to give you credit, you did get a couple of things right. Which was, of course, what I feared the most of your foolish research.” As Hubert stopped to consider his words, Ferdinand wondered just how long Hubert had been aware of his project, the perceptive bastard.

  
  


“That woman,” said Hubert, eyes focused on something through the windshield. “She  _was_ killed by a vampire. One that I had been tracking for some time. I had gone back in an attempt to prevent the attack.”

  
  


Ferdinand’s jaw dropped so far it may as well have been dragging on the pavement under the car. Vampires were actually, truly real? “What? What do you mean,  _prevent_ ?”

  
  


“On that night, Edelgard and I made a grave mistake in letting that monster escape our sight for even a moment. It is our responsibility to defend people from those kinds of attacks.  That we let that happen in the confusion of that evening makes us failures as vampire hunters.”


	8. Act 2 Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert struggles to introduce Ferdinand to the world of vampire hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act two! Hope y'all are ready for Hubert's perspective for this chunk. We have many, many things to pay off now that Hubert's true role has been revealed. Also, get ready for some action scenes of the spooky variety.

The hideout, Hubert knew, would be a hard sell to Ferdinand. Perhaps even harder than that of their role as vampire hunters. When they reached their destination, Ferdinand was eyeing the gravel lot like he was being asked to step on lava, and Hubert had to physically drag him into the open, despite how dreadful the contact was after their brief collision in the ride over.

  
  


The car crunched across the gravel for some time, weaving through the red brick facades of old factories and loading docks. An innocuous staircase next to an abandoned front office served as the entrance to their center of operations. Hubert and Edelgard were barely halfway down the steps when Ferdinand, who had been astonishingly silent until now, cried from the top of the steps: “You truly expect me to follow you down _there_?”

  
  


“We most certainly do,” said Hubert, squinting up to where Ferdinand’s fiery mane was haloed by the sun.

  
  


“Does this not look an awful lot to any rational person like you are going to murder me and leave me in this godforsaken basement?” Ferdinand threw his hands in the air incredulously.

  
  


“We will not--” Hubert cut himself off with a sigh. “Listen, you  absolute fool--”

  
  


Edelgard stopped Hubert with a hand to his shoulder and sidled past him up the concrete corridor. “Ferdinand,” she called sternly, “why on earth would we tell you the truth just to kill you anyway?”

  
  


Ferdinand shrugged, filling Hubert with frustration. He was starting to grow tired of watching Ferdinand speak without thinking and then needing to furiously backpedal when his rashness was inevitably contradicted. None of this would have been happening if Ferdinand had spent even a fraction of his frivolous life thinking rationally.

  
  


“I just.” Ferdinand shuffled his feet. “I do not understand why you need to involve me in this whole… situation in the first place.”

  
  


Edelgard approached Ferdinand, leaving Hubert silently grinding his teeth at the bottom of the staircase. “We decided that letting you know the full truth would be less dangerous than letting you act rashly on half-truths,”  Edelgard explained. “If you trust us, Ferdinand, we can help you.”

  
  


“What could you possibly help with?”

  
  


“You want to find Flayn, don’t you?” As Edelgard negotiated, Hubert’s grimace dropped in absolute shock. This had most certainly not been a discussion he’d agreed to having so soon. When Hubert stepped cautiously up the stairs to grab Edelgard’s sleeve, she shot him a look that told him very clearly that he needed to keep his mouth shut.

  
  


Ferdinand’s eyes hopped worriedly between Hubert and Edelgard. Hubert looked at his feet to avoid the gaze. “I thought that you said you don’t know where she is,” said Ferdinand.  The only thing that was bothering Hubert more than the topic at hand was the expression of sheer despair that was setting into Ferdinand’s face. It was almost as if the bastard cared about her and was upset that she was gone. Detestable.

  
  


Edelgard put a hand on Ferdinand’s arm, crinkling the fabric on his garish marching-band style jacket. “We don’t know where Flayn is exactly, but we might be able to figure it out. If anything, we might be the best people to figure it out. The circumstances of her disappearance are telling of vampiric influence, and we may have the resources to investigate it.” As she spoke, Hubert’s concern shifted into  pride; her ability to thoroughly use such a bargaining chip was always one of her best skills.

  
  


Ferdinand’s eyes were dewy with hope. “You mean you’ll truly help me find Flayn?” The sickly sweetness to Ferdinand’s voice made Hubert all bust recoil.

  
  


A metallic creak came from the bottom of the stairs and Hubert had to practically dive out of the way as Emile emerged, hoisting a massive pack of clattering supplies. His intense expression dropped as he took in the peculiar arrangement of bodies on the stairs. “Hubert, Edelgard,” he said stiffly. “We have business to attend. Right now.”

  
  


Hubert was already on his way up the steps. Of course something had to be falling to them right now. He all but shoved Ferdinand out of the way coming out of the staircase, with Emile hot at his heels.

  
  


“Right now in broad daylight?” Edelgard broke into a trot to catch up with the taller party members. Much to Hubert’s dismay, Ferdinand followed her. “What could bring that on? It’s almost as if--”

  
  


“As if they knew that we were preoccupied with something? I considered that, as well,” Hubert said. “But I suppose they didn’t know that we would be coming from our weapons stash. Emile, pass me the bag.”

  
  


As Emile handed off the supplies to Hubert, Edelgard wrung her hands furiously. “Honestly,” she said, “who do they think they are?”

  
  


“Who knows,” said Emile simply, his cold, long-lashed eyes focused on a point far ahead.

  
  


Hubert pulled on the handle of Edelgard’s car before realizing that she still had the keys. He spun and stuck out his hand, fingers twiddling impatiently.

  
  


“Oh, no,” remarked Edelgard as she and Ferdinand approached. “I’m driving. Hubert, you have more to explain to Ferdinand on the way.”

  
  


“ _He’s_ coming?”

  
  


“I’m  _coming?_ ” 

  
  


Hubert curled his lip when he and Ferdinand’s voices overlapped. What right had Ferdinand to encroach on his outrage? “Edelgard,” Hubert pleaded. “You do know that I respect your judgment--”

  
  


“Good. Then you can help Ferdinand prepare.” She stopped across from Hubert, hands on her hips. “He has to start at some point, and it may as well be now.”

  
  


Though Hubert boiled just below the surface, he bit his tongue. “Very well. Get in, Ferdinand.”

  
  


A rather smug look crossed Ferdinand’s face as the two climbed into the back seats. Hubert tried to ignore him, instead focusing on rummaging through the enormous pack to find something that he could give Ferdinand to do. Surely, he could find something  that the fool couldn’t hurt himself on. Or perhaps it would be better if he gave him something he would  _absolutely_ hurt himself on. Purposefully pawing past all of the crosses and holy water flasks, Hubert landed on a potentially practical option.

  
  


“Ferdinand, do you--” Hubert swallowed his words when he looked up and saw the cheeky smirk that was still on his face. “ _What?_ ”

  
  


Ferdinand looked pointedly in Edelgard’s direction. “Someone is a little whipped, hm?”

  
  


“Oh, so I see that you wish to take the role of bait,” remarked Hubert coldly. He made a point of steadying himself as Edelgard hit a turn especially hard, mortified at the idea of falling into Ferdinand again. “I am certain that you would be plenty delicious to a hungry vampire--”

  
  


“Hubert,” called Edelgard cautioningly from the front.

  
  


Hubert’s first instinct was to retract and immediately return to what was expected of him, but then he saw the snide curve of Ferdinand’s mouth grow even more intense. Hubert gritted his teeth, considered defending himself, either from Ferdinand, Edelgard, or both, but before he could speak, Edelgard shot him a cold stare in the rear view. Biting his lip, Hubert hunched his shoulders and tried not to make eye contact with anyone else in the car. Why did any situation involving Ferdinand have to be such an event?

  
  


Grinding his teeth, Hubert buried his gaze into the supply pack. As if his interactions with Ferdinand weren’t already exhausting on every level, he’d been having to chase off a bothersome fixation on him as of late. Thankfully, he’d identified it early enough to effectively nip it in the bud, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t sitting at the back of his mind every time that bastard was in his sights. The simple fact was that Hubert had no room for such things. A state like this would only mean less time and attention available for Edelgard, for real work. He’d learned at an early age how to catch the signs and snuff them out before they caused problems, and that was just what he would do here. Besides, he knew that it was only a spike in hormones of some kind; he wanted to let off some steam. If he needed a more effective solution, he could simply go at himself in private for a while to get it completely out of his system.

  
  


“ So, what are you thinking?” Ferdinand suddenly leaned over Hubert to peer into the supply bag, placing a hand near enough to Hubert’s that he had to wrench his own away.

  
  


Hubert squinted and haughtily adjusted his gloves to play off his reaction. “Pardon?”

  
  


“ Well, what am I doing?”  Ferdinand cocked his head to the side, sending a tumble of orange locks tumbling down his shoulders in a  wave of floral scent. “If I am going to help, I may as well do a fine job, no?”

  
  


“You are taking this rather in stride now,” observed Hubert.

  
  


Ferdinand took a moment to respond, eyes pointing down in thought. As the car pitched and swayed, fiery strands swayed in his face. “I just want to rescue Flayn,” said Ferdinand finally. “And if helping you and Edelgard is what can make that happen, then I’ll do it.”

  
  


“How sickeningly sentimental,” Hubert said with as little raw bitterness as possible. “In any case, I think it may be somewhat possible to put you in a useful role. Tell me, do you know how to use a bow?”

  
  


Ferdinand snorted at that, tucking his loose hairs behind his ear. “I mean, of course,” he huffed. “Who  _didn’t_ have to sit through archery in the sixth grade? Unless, perhaps the students in marching band were exempt…”

  
  


The tendency of this absolute image of a man to leave Hubert speechless was a particularly frustrating roadblock. Blinking hard, Hubert looked to Emile, who shook his head and shrugged. When he saw the slightly embarrassed look in Edelgard’s eyes through the mirror, he was reminded of her shared history with Ferdinand. Hubert furrowed his brows and widened his eyes at her in a silent question.

  
  


Edelgard made an odd sound. “Okay, so we had archery classes. What are you looking at me for?”

  
  


“See?” Ferdinand leaned back in his seat smugly, as though Edelgard’s half-hearted support was all he needed to win this exchange. “I only ever took the required amount, though. I much preferred fencing and horseback riding.”

  
  


The amount of effort that it took for Hubert to hold himself back from insulting Ferdinand’s, and thus Edelgard’s, school life was incredible. He was straining himself so much that he was nearly in tears. “ So,” he managed to speak through gritted teeth, “you are capable of using a bow?”

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


“Good. I would rather like to keep you  _out_ of the fight, lest you, erm.” Hubert paused and consciously avoided any potential mention of worrying for Ferdinand’s safety. “ Well, I don’t want to see you getting in the way.”

  
  


“Are you sure that’s where you want me?” Ferdinand gave a rather pouty look. “I did say that I’m good at fencing, and I do go sporting regularly. It isn’t like I’m out of shape.”

  
  


Hubert blinked and looked Ferdinand dead steady in the eyes. Not his arms. Not his hands. Not a single thing that may confirm or deny Ferdinand’s claim of fitness. “While I do not doubt that you get plenty of… golfing in on the regular,” Hubert said with a tight voice, “you are lacking in experience. Namely combat experience. Anything other than this would be more trouble than help. That is,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “unless you are offering once more to be  _bait_ .”

  
  


Ferdinand continued to pout until Edelgard announced from the front, “we’re almost there; get yourselves ready.”

  
  


Finally, Ferdinand set his face into something more serious. “Fine.”

  
  


Hubert passed his collapsible bow to Ferdinand and dipped back into the bag for a clutch of arrows. He  handed off a quiver of silver-tipped, ash-infused arrows, ammo incapable of directly killing any vampires, but effective for incapacitating them.

  
  


The car lurched to a stop on the side of the patchwork road, surrounded by gray lawns and little houses. “It’s the one two houses down,” she said once she finished conversing quietly with Emile. “Let’s go.”

  
  


Ferdinand startled when she opened the door and stepped out. “Wait! Edelgard, you--”

  
  


“There is no time left for fear,” scolded Hubert, climbing out of the car and retrieving his close-combat supplies from under the seat. He passed Emile his preferred silver sickle,  Edelgard her silvered ax, and gestured at Ferdinand. “You, follow me. You are covering Edelgard and me.”

  
  


“But, what about…?” Ferdinand gestured vaguely in Emile’s direction. Where he pointed, Emile was already hopping a fence to cross through the adjacent backyard.

  
  


“He can handle himself,” said Hubert simply. “You won’t even notice Emile if you are doing what you should be doing and watching my six.”

  
  


“But--”

  
  


“Don’t strain yourself thinking.” Hubert veered off of the narrow urban sidewalk and made an approach on the targeted home. The house had been on their radar for some time, showing all of the signs that vampires used to draw attention from their kin to an easy target. Along the driveway, a trail of faint ashes led to the garage; among the wilted sunflowers out front, hawthorn saplings were taking root; and Hubert was sure that if he climbed to the roof, he would find some suspiciously clean vermin bones scattered in the gutter. Often, these sorts of targets were especially friendly sorts, people who would invite the late-night missionaries at their door inside for a cup of coffee.

  
  


Hubert checked the windows of the beige station wagon of the residents as he crept up the driveway; he’d been burned before by some shockingly clever low-level vampires, and he’d never let his guard down around parked cars again.

  
  


Hubert was prepared to pick the front door lock, but the handle gave way to just a touch. The entryway led to a quiet, empty den. He waved for Edelgard and Ferdinand to follow. Edelgard swept in and placed herself at the base of the staircase, while Ferdinand loomed awkwardly in the doorway. Hubert had to put a hand on his back and shove him in so that he could close and lock the door.

  
  


As Hubert continued to scout his way into the house, hand on the hilt of his silver knife, Edelgard stuck around in the entryway and called up the stairs in a projected whisper: “Emile, is there anyone upstairs?”

  
  


A mildly startled sound came from Ferdinand, and Hubert hesitated, prepared for some threat to come from where he’d left the others, before he realized that he was likely just reacting to the sight of Emile splattered with  vampire remains. He would get used to it.

  
  


“Just the one,” came Emile’s answer, his deep voice bouncing easily around the halls to where Hubert was investigating what appeared to be a basement door. “There are no humans, however.”

  
  


Hubert could hear activity in the basement. He pawed the door open to see stairs that gave way into darkness. Hubert hoped that the vampires here would be foolish enough to think that hiding away from the light would be enough to make their powers work in the day. He thumbed a vial of kerosene in his pocket. How rarely he got to use flames, but if it were contained in a basement, the spreading would be manageable.  How he longed to see the beasts burn.

  
  


“Wait, Hubert!” Edelgard grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back from the door. “There are probably people down there.”

  
  


Hubert clicked his tongue. For all she knew, with how late they’d gotten here, the humans were already sucked dry. Still, he conceded to Edelgard. “Very well. Shall we draw them out, then?”

  
  


Edelgard nodded. Hubert stalked back out into the living room and removed his gloves before fishing through his belongings for a hawthorn pin. “You.” Hubert pointed at Ferdinand, who was clutching the bow and holding himself awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “Up on the stairs. We’re bringing them out here.”

  
  


Hubert waited until Ferdinand had an arrow nocked and pointed through the rungs of the banister before pricking his thumb on a hawthorn point and dropping the bloodied pin to the floor. While Edelgard waited in the den, Hubert tucked himself around a corner just past the basement door. He held his breath. Waited.

  
  


The beasts emerged, noses in the air and toothy mouths splattered with red blood. The pair of them was relatively small, assuring Hubert of their low-power nature. When they caught a proper whiff of the hawthorn, they bolted straight for it, exposing their backs to Hubert.

  
  


He made quick work of the nearest one, clutching it by the hair and plunging one of his oak stakes between its shoulder blades. With a sickening shriek, it was on the floor, seeping stale black blood onto the carpet.

  
  


Hubert wrenched the stake out of its back and calmly wiped the excess viscera from it with his handkerchief as the other creature twirled to face him. He barely gave it a second look and continued to clean the stake, tapping his foot, as the beast lunged at him. It stopped a few inches short, held in place by Edelgard’s rosary around its throat. A cold puff of air landed on Hubert’s face as it hissed and clawed at the beads.

  
  


Feeling around with the tip of his stake, Hubert found the creature’s sternum and thrust it just underneath. Another burst of rotten, chilly breath came, this time accompanied by a repulsive sputter of blood. Hubert pushed the stake further in, watching as the already pale, cataract hazed eyes of the walking corpse finally went out of focus and rolled back.

  
  


He let the beast fall and nodded at Edelgard, who was working to catch her breath. “Is that it?” she asked.

  
  


Hubert steadied himself and listened. In the silence of his held breath, he could hear the creak of the basement steps. “One more,” he said, grabbing Edelgard and leading her away. “It’s larger than the others. Back off.”

  
  


An enormous _thud_ cut into Hubert’s careful listening, followed by a groan, low and rumbling. Peeking around the corner, he caught a glimpse of Emile flat on his back, next to an equally prone vampire. Hadn’t he said that the second floor was clear?

  
  


No time to think of that. Hubert left Emile to his own devices, confident in his resilience, and focused on the lumbering vampire that loomed over him and Edelgard. Hubert dug in his pocket and produced another hawthorn wreath, smearing it in his blood and waving it above his head. The head of the beast swung to look at it, droplets of blood flying from its mouth. The volume of blood on its face was enough to confirm for Hubert that they were far too late for the humans.

  
  


“I’ve got its attention,” called Hubert, noticing the dilated pupils of the lured creature. “Go, Edelgard!”

  
  


Hopping over the glassy coffee table to get to the other side of the vampire, Edelgard took a swing at its head with her ax. Hubert let out a breath at the sound of metal carving through tendons, muscle, windpipe, and esophagus.

  
  


A startled yelp came from across the room, and Hubert’s attention snapped to Emile, to Ferdinand, back to Emile. The vampire that stood over Emile had an arrow wedged in its shoulder, but the blood that spurted across the scene was red, human. Emile had been grazed.

  
  


“Ferdinand!” Hubert bared his teeth at the terrified fop hiding behind the banister. “What did I tell you?”

  
  


“I didn’t mean to; I—Ah!” Ferdinand yipped as Emile swung his sickle with his uninjured arm and took off the shot vampire’s head in one clean movement.

  
  


Hubert didn’t flinch as black specks from the sheer momentum of Emile’s attack splattered in his face. He kept his eyes locked firmly on Ferdinand. “Time spent watching Emile is time spent not protecting me—er—Edelgard! I told you--”

  
  


“Hubert, shut up!” When Ferdinand yelled back, Hubert was all but prepared to strangle his pretty little neck, until he saw Ferdinand pointing past his head. “Edelgard!”

  
  


Hubert swallowed when he followed Ferdinand’s finger. The bulky creature from before had its arms hooked around Edelgard’s neck. Imprints of crosses were burned into its skin all over its forearms,  but its hide appeared to be so thick that they barely bothered it. Worse yet, its head hung onto its body by little more than a flimsy chunk of muscle and skin; Edelgard’s ax hadn’t gotten all the way through.

  
  


Edelgard was putting up quite the fight against the beast; with her crucifixes cast aside in the scuffle, she continued to claw with her fingernails, leaving grayish trails where she took off the topmost layer of skin. Though the vampire had its ghastly fangs out, prepared to plunge into Edelgard, it was struggling to get to her neck betwixt her struggling and the flopping about of its own head.

  
  


Despite his better judgment, Hubert was looking to Ferdinand for support. He needed to see the glow of hope that sat behind even his most frightened expression. “Ferdinand,” commanded Hubert. “Ready an arrow, but, fuck’s sake,  _don’t_ fire yet.”

  
  


When Ferdinand met his eyes, though it was hard to see, that hope was still there. “Watch your language, Hubert,” he puffed with something close to a smile. Hubert’s insides felt warm and stable.

  
  


Emile attempted to lunge towards Edelgard and the beast, eyes focused with killing intent, but Hubert put out a hand. “You’re injured,” Hubert growled. “It will only make the damned thing more enraged.”

  
  


Hubert thumbed the hawthorn still in his hand. He took a breath, dug thorns into the meat of his palm for more blood, and chucked it past the beast’s lolling head. It would only give him a moment, but that would be all he needed if he could trust his teammates. “Ferdinand, now!”

  
  


An arrow dug into the beast’s head as it turned to watch the wreath fly by, further thinning out the tendrils keeping it attached with an unsightly ripping sound. It was shocking that the sheer weight of its thick skull wasn’t enough to drop it off.

  
  


Edelgard gasped as the shock of the impact loosened the grip on her throat. “Holy water!” she commanded with a rasp.

  
  


From one of his many pockets, Emile produced a glass bottle of the liquid. He passed it to Hubert, who tossed it swiftly away into Edelgard’s hand.

  
  


The beast was just starting to recover from the dazing pain of Ferdinand’s arrow when Edelgard broke the bottle across its hearty head. Sizzling came from the spots where the water splattered, foaming up on the black wounds of its neck and arms.  Though it was clearly trying to scream, the lack of any functional windpipe made it impossible. Its grimace slackened when Edelgard used the jagged edges of the bottle to saw the rest of the way through its neck.

  
  


As the enormous body fell to the floor, the hunters caught their breath and took stock. Four bodies: two staked, two decapitated. Minor injuries to all but Ferdinand, though he was responsible for one. And, when Hubert went down to check, the humans in the basement were firmly dead. The pair of old folks probably couldn’t survive an attack from one vampire, let alone four. On the cool floor of the basement, Hubert found a Blackberry phone, far too cutely decorated to be either the old folks’ or the vampires’. Someone had gotten away. Re-gloving his hands, Hubert took the phone and stashed it. He didn’t tell his allies about it.

  
  


With the heap of vampiric corpses and the lack of any remaining inhabitants, Hubert made the call with Edelgard’s approval to dispose of the excessive evidence by simply burning the corpses in the house. By the time anyone would arrive through the city traffic, the vampires would be nothing but ash, and the humans left in the basement would be singed but recognizable. The idea was met with some harsh objections from Ferdinand, but he settled down somewhat when Edelgard talked to him about it.

  
  


The smoldering remnants behind them, the hunters set back to their hideaway, roughed up and disappointed at the failure to save any lives, but glad to have eliminated a few unseemly creatures form the world.

  
  



	9. Act 2 Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recuperation from the mission followed by Hubert's independent investigation.

Weapons and supply packs clattered on the broad metal planning table of the hideout as the hunters, along with their dazed new recruit, filed inside. In the spacious basement, lined with glinting weapon racks, each shuffle and clink echoed. Hubert made a straight path to his research office, injured allies tagging along, but he hesitated when Ferdinand plopped himself down on one of the scattered folding chairs around the space. Looking his way, Hubert shook his head and called him to follow with an index finger. Though the pout that he got in response was just as insufferable as always, Hubert couldn’t help but take some enjoyment in being able to boss him around.

  
  


Similarly, Emile trailed off towards one of the weapon racks on the way, and Hubert had to call him back. His job was like herding cats. He was never more thankful for Edelgard being so… herself than at times like this.

  
  


Hubert flipped on the cold, bright lights of his sterile lab and set aside his work-in-progress vampire repellent cocktails to make room on his work table. Once he laid out a sheet of crinkly tissue to cover the table, making it almost resemble a functional examination table, Edelgard and Emile seated themselves atop it for cleaning and treatment.

  
  


Hubert touched on Edelgard first, and despite her rather dramatic struggle with the huge vampire, she’d only received a few dings and bruises overall. Once Hubert covered up her scratches, she was good to go. When Ferdinand tried to follow her out, Hubert pinched his sleeve and pulled him back.

  
  


Ferdinand scoffed from deep in his throat. “What is the meaning of this? If Edelgard gets to return to work, then it is only fair that I do as well!”

  
  


Hubert lobbed Ferdinand into a stray stool, no patience available for this petulant fit. “Edelgard has work to do, and _you_ need to see the results of your recklessness.”

  
  


“As if I don’t have anything to do at work,” huffed Ferdinand.

  
  


At that, Hubert simply made a face. He ignored Ferdinand’s whining as best he could as he unbuttoned Emile’s shirt and slowly, carefully peeled it off, along with the haphazard scrap of fabric that had been tied around his wound. The wide, pink laceration was certainly not pretty when the excess blood was cleared away, but it wasn’t a bad as it could have been.

  
  


Ferdinand was still vapidly whinging when Hubert  crossed by to wash his hands. “You know, not having an assistant is most certainly going to increase my workload, since Flayn took care of so much of the… er, the stuff that came in. Perhaps Edelgard would be willing to spare one of her extras. I would much prefer Dorothea over  _you_ ; Dorothea is rather pleasant--”

  
  


“Will you shut up?” Hubert snapped. With his hands dried, he chose to stuff his stinging, cut-up palm back into his glove before he carried on with the prep. As he cleaned the area more thoroughly, he had to sweep away Emile’s straw hair, which continued to fall back in his way.

  
  


“So,” he mumbled. “You guys were pretty brutal back there.”

  
  


“If  _brutal_ is what you would like to call it, that’s fair enough,” hummed Hubert. “But it is impossible to be truly cruel to any beasts like that.”

  
  


Ferdinand made an uncomfortable sound. “It is hard not to see it that way when they, well, they look an awful lot like humans.”

  
  


“They are not. Simple as that.”

  
  


“But--”

  
  


“Listen, Ferdinand. I know you have been living in a fantasy world for the past few weeks in which vampires are suave, sophisticated beings who resemble humans in most ways, but you need to face the truth. And that truth is not as thrilling nor as  _sexy_ as you want it to be. You saw for yourself. Only the most powerful vampires are able to begin to integrate themselves gracefully into human society, and even then it is only ever for the purpose of tricking their prey.”

  
  


“But, they can suffer, can’t they?”

  
  


“Maybe so.”

  
  


Ferdinand scoffed. “Hubert, that is so very cold! Surely you are capable of extending some empathy to people.”

  
  


Hubert rolled his eyes. “How many times do I need to say it? They aren’t human.”

  
  


“Fine, then if they really aren’t to you, would you treat an animal like that?”

  
  


Hubert sighed. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d interacted with an animal in a situation that didn’t end up with him getting barked at, hissed at, or clawed at. Even if he  _wanted_ to be cruel to an animal, which he surely didn’t, the damn things hated him so much that they would never let him close enough to do so. “You are not applying the right kind of logic, Ferdinand. These things are less still than animals. Here, this can be a teaching moment for more than one thing.” He took hold of Emile’s bleeding arm and pointed at it. “Why is  _this_ frightening?”

  
  


Ferdinand made a face. “Because it hurts?”

  
  


“It doesn’t,” interjected Emile.

  
  


“Wait,  _that_ doesn’t hurt?” Ferdinand openly gaped.

  
  


“Focus,” hissed Hubert. “You are frightened of this because you are frightened of  _dying_ . Anything worse than a paper cut forces you to consider the fact that you are a delicate being capable of crumbling to dust at the slightest mistake.”

  
  


Ferdinand frowned like he’d just swallowed something bitter. “This conversation is becoming rather upsetting.”

  
  


“Perfect. That is the point. Does thinking about your imminent doom not make you want to do something with yourself?”

  
  


“It certainly makes me want to  _think_ about something else.” Ferdinand twiddled his thumbs awkwardly. “I suppose I would like to do something, but you are holding me hostage from my work.”

  
  


“Your mortality moves you to act,” explained Hubert. “It is that which makes you a human. It is that which the vampires lack. People like us are one of the only things that can kill them. They do not fear, they do not consider their place in the world. Anything that sacrifices its mortality sacrifices its right to be treated like a living thing. They are walking corpses and nothing more.”

  
  


Ferdinand furrowed his brow, and Hubert returned to his work, assuming that he would be able to figure things out from their. “But,” Ferdinand spoke up, “what about the ones that are turned unwillingly? They can do that, right?”

  
  


Hubert paused, tightened his fingers into fists, released them. “I pity them,” was all he said.

  
  


In the silence that followed, Hubert gave up on trying to keep Emile’s hair out of the way and tied it up into a ponytail with a spare rubber band. He pulled away with a sigh when the area was fully cleaned, and poked around his drawers for his suturing supplies, consciously shifting his focus entirely to work.

  
  


“Well,” hummed Emile as Hubert looked away, “since I hardly hurt, I think I will go.” When Hubert looked back, lip curled, he was standing up from the examination table.

  
  


Ferdinand also hopped to his feet in response. “Well, if you aren’t bothered, then I really have no further reason to be here--”

  
  


“Both of you  _sit down_ .”

  
  


Their rears hit their seats so quickly that the sound resonated. Hubert smirked at the shameful look on Ferdinand’s face. Perhaps being assigned to personally baby Ferdinand wouldn’t be so bad with this freedom to command him as he wanted.

  
  


“Emile, we’ve had this conversation before,” Hubert said, swatting Emile’s chest with the back of his ungloved hand. “If you go and put your filthy shirt back on over an  _open wound_ , it will almost certainly get infected. Are you excited by the prospects of losing your dominant arm to  gangrene ?”

  
  


Emile shrugged his sinewy shoulders. “I don’t think it would--”

  
  


“You do not want it,” interjected Hubert. “ _We_ do not want it.” He clicked his tongue and returned to searching his drawers for his supplies. “Now, as soon as I find the damned needle, I will be able to save your arm from certain decay.”

  
  


As Hubert sifted through his things, a tap on the shoulder directed him to take an offering from Ferdinand. At last, he was being helpful. “Thank you—what is  _this_ ?” Hubert shoved the little cloth band in his hand into Ferdinand’s face.

  
  


“For his hair,” Ferdinand said, as if it were obvious. “Those rubber bands are bad for it.”

  
  


Hubert’s brain completely short-circuited, leaving him with no expression to give but a blank stare. Somewhere along the way, his mind refused to choose between an exaggerated threat and a declaration of his apathy, so what came out of his mouth was, “I cannot possibly inform you right now of just how much I want to kill you.”

  
  


Ferdinand flinched as Hubert flung the band back at him. “Rather harsh, but okay. If you wish for me to leave, I can--”

  
  


“You are staying right there,” Hubert seethed as he finally opened the right drawer to find his sutures. “And you are going to watch.”

  
  


Ferdinand made a sound as Hubert readied the needle. “You know,” he said, his voice a higher pitch than normal. “If I were a more crude man, I would be perfectly glad to stare at a muscular man while he gets… sharp things stuck in him, but I feel that this is rather--”

  
  


“Ferdinand, if you do not give all of your attention to each and every stitch, I will rip them all out and do them over again until you have learned your lesson.” Hubert brandished his suturing needle as if he planned to skewer Ferdinand with it. “I am sure Emile wouldn’t mind, would you, Emile?”

  
  


“It’s of no concern,” confirmed Emile.

  
  


The sickened expression on Ferdinand’s face was confirmation enough that Hubert would have his full attention. Emile’s stoniness  was as present as ever as Hubert looped the needle through his frayed skin in a structured ladder stitch. He had to admit, though he was taking some delight in telling Ferdinand what to do, the knowledge that those eyes were on his work was making his stitches turn the slightest bit sloppy. Thankfully, he was sure that Emile wouldn’t be too turned up about it, and the grisly look of them would help as intimidation.

  
  


When he heard Ferdinand make another disgusted noise, Hubert gave him a contemptuous snort. “Need I remind you what this lesson is about?”

  
  


“Avoiding friendly fire with dangerous weapons?”

  
  


Hubert chuckled. “How naive. This, my young, innocent Ferdinand, is about following orders. Did I not tell you that you were to concern yourself with Edelgard and me,  _not Emile_ ?”

  
  


“The man had fallen from a second story staircase,” Ferdinand balked. Though where was clear outrage in his voice, Hubert didn’t offer his tantrum the luxury of his watching. “The vampire that came with him was already up; had I not done anything, he could have been consumed!”

  
  


“I am willing to bet that the very reason you hit Emile was because he was in the process of a counter-attack.”

  
  


“I was,” cut in Emile.

  
  


“Shut up while I am working on you,” Hubert snapped, tugging hard enough on the suture to make Emile’s muscles tighten in a wince.

  
  


The plasticky  stool creaked and crackled as Ferdinand shifted in it. “You know , for a doctor, your bedside manners are abysmal,” he observed.

  
  


Hubert was half a step away from snapping his needle in half. “I am  _not_ a doctor,” he hissed, closing and finishing his suturing job with considerable roughness. “It just so happens that knowing how to efficiently kill also gives me a rather good grasp on how to keep people alive.”

  
  


“It certainly wouldn’t hurt you to have a slightly better attitude.”

  
  


“You are the only one bothered by my manners,” Hubert sighed as he covered Emile’s stitches with a thick bandage. “Besides.” He shot a smug sneer at Ferdinand. “If you so dread the idea of being in my care, will that not motivate you not to get injured?”

  
  


“Whatever.” When Ferdinand started idly kicking his feet like a bored school boy, Hubert pointedly returned his attention to checking Emile for further damage. Stunningly, there were no signs of a concussion, despite his fall. Hubert had to be grateful that one of his teammates appeared to be an invincible man.

  
  


“So,” said Ferdinand peckishly. “What happens when  _you_ get hurt, Hubert?”

  
  


“I don’t.” Hubert put a hand on Emile’s back to indicate that he was allowed to get up. Having finished his delicate work, Hubert pulled on his other glove and set to work putting things away. When he turned back to the work table, Emile had disappeared without a word. He knew that he would have to chase him down later to make sure that he wasn’t trying to open his stitches with some kind of absurd behavior, but he was willing to let the man go for now.

  
  


Clearing off his table, Hubert gave Ferdinand a sidelong look where he lingered at the side of the room. “You may leave now, too, you know. Go of and do… whatever it is you intend to call ‘work.’”

  
  


A bitter chuckle came from Hubert when Ferdinand vacated his seat in the blink of an eye. To think that the man would still so heavily prioritize the world of banking, of all things, after the revelation of the very real existence of  _vampires_ . Though, perhaps it was just an impatience to get away from him, which Hubert couldn’t blame him much for.

  
  


Hubert was so caught up in his head that when he turned to leave, he ran bodily into Ferdinand in the doorway. Stumbling back, hand on the light switch, Hubert all but snarled at Ferdinand. “What are you  _doing_ here?”  
  
  


Ferdinand’s face was uncharacteristically cold. “You never did answer my question, Hubert,” he said, stepping forward and forcing Hubert to step back. “What happens when  _you_ get hurt?”

  
  


“What are you talking about?”

  
  


“Hubert.” Ferdinand crossed his arms. “You wouldn’t just  _ignore_ an injury, would you?”

  
  


Hubert rolled his eyes and shouldered past Ferdinand. “What I do with myself is none of your—what are you doing?”

  
  


When Ferdinand caught Hubert by the wrist, Hubert’s brain function ground to a halt. There was something of a searing, tingling sensation where Ferdinand’s fingers were touching Hubert’s wrist and, goodness forbid, where his thumb slid past the hem of his glove.

  
  


“I happened to notice that you’ve been bleeding through the fabric for some time,” said Ferdinand firmly. In one swift, lascivious movement, Ferdinand peeled the glove from his hand. Hubert couldn’t decide whether the worse sensation was that of his stinging cuts hitting the cold air or at the sheer violation he felt when Ferdinand forcibly touched his bare hand.

  
  


“Unhand me, Ferdinand--”

  
  


“ What is the meaning of this, Hubert?” Ferdinand spread Hubert’s fingers with his thumbs in a rather shameless gesture. “You are so hypocritical for this.”

  
  


“It is just a minor--”

  
  


“ _Minor_ . These look awful.” Ferdinand produced a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood that pooled in the creases of Hubert’s palm. “I mean, if these get infected from that filthy glove… how did this happen? I saw no tears in the fabric.”

  
  


“ _Fine._ ” Hubert wrenched his hand from Ferdinand’s grip, clutching it close to his chest. His heart was absolutely galloping. “If I explain, will you leave me be?” Though Hubert tried to glare at Ferdinand with his normal level of contempt, it was hard to conjure anything intimidating while he had a burning hot blush covering his face. What made Ferdinand think that he could just grapple with Hubert unprompted like that?

  
  


Ferdinand wrung his handkerchief, which was already spotted with enough blood to ruin it. “I will leave you be after your explanation if you let me treat your wounds, as well.”

  
  


Hubert would never allow such a thing. The amount of contact that that would entail would surely remove the stopper he’d put on his unseemly thoughts about Ferdinand. But, the sheer determination behind Ferdinand’s gaze was making his willpower weak. “Fine,” Hubert conceded after a long period of deliberation. “After this, you  _leave_ .”

  
  


There was far too much delight in Ferdinand’s little fist pump. “ Great! Let me just…”

  
  


Hubert held his tongue when Ferdinand cast off his gaudy jacket, but he had to draw the line when he started to roll up his sleeves. “Ferdinand, you are wanting to treat my wounds, not to  _disrobe_ , correct?” His presence in Hubert’s workspace was already an intrusive one, but to have him exposing his arms like this? Here? Now? He may as well be  _naked_ .

  
  


“ I need to  _wash my hands_ ,” Ferdinand said. “Or do you want me to just stick my unclean fingers into your wounds?”

  
  


“Do what you must,” said Hubert tersely. “But try not to be so  _unseemly_ .” He stared at his cuts as Ferdinand washed up. In this state, he knew that any amount of looking in his direction would lead to him  _noticing_ things, like the freckles that gathered at his joints, or the catching of the light on the orange hairs that arced across his forearms… when had he started looking?

  
  


“ _Unseemly_ ,” repeated Ferdinand, flicking water off of his hands. “Do you find me so disgusting? I mean, what’s his name, Emile was just in here with  _no_ shirt on. You’d have to excuse me for not being as sculpted as he, but seriously—”

  
  


“ _To direct the conversation back to our prior agreement,_ ” cut in Hubert, raising his voice enough to force Ferdinand to stop talking. If the only way to change the topic to anything else was to do so with brute force, he would go that way. “The purpose of these gouges were to draw the beasts’ attention.”

  
  


Ferdinand pursed his lips. “Hubert, you didn’t--”

  
  


“I am fully aware of my double standard. May we  _please_ ignore it?” Hubert hated to resort to begging like this, but he simply didn’t want to allow Ferdinand to follow that train of thought to its natural end. 

  
  


To Hubert’s dismay, Ferdinand smirked at him as he answered with a snarky “alright, then.” He rolled his eyes and took Hubert’s hand to dab it down with stinging alcohol. His fingers placed a delicate pressure on him as he wiped the dried blood away from Hubert’s tensed hand. “Well, go ahead and explain to me how such small cuts could distract anything while Emile was bleeding everywhere.”

  
  


“It is not just the blood,” Hubert said, digging through his pocket with his free hand and producing the last spare hawthorn pin he had on his person. “I was using this. I am sure you recognize it.”

  
  


Ferdinand made an awkward face and said nothing. He directed his eyes to the cuts as he continued to clean the wounds, and Hubert watched the  long lashes that hung over Ferdinand’s eyes before he had to look away to hide the blush that dusted his face when Ferdinand held his thumb between two fingers to steady it as he dabbed away.

  
  


“These, er, these wreaths are a vital tool in the field,” said Hubert with a tight voice. “Hawthorn gives off a delectable scent to vampires, and, on their own, the twigs can draw their senses with the smell, much like a pie on the windowsill, or a fresh pot of coffee brewing in the other room.” He had to turn his brain quite hard to come up with temptations other than freckled skin and tangerine waves. How he wished that his hormones would calm themselves for just a moment.

  
  


“Only one of those things sounds tempting,” interjected Ferdinand.

  
  


Hubert scoffed. “I will keep in mind for future analogies that you have no taste.” He flexed his fingers as Ferdinand let go of him to grab bandages.

  
  


“Whatever you say,  _professor_ .” Ferdinand unwound a roll of medical tape with a quirked eyebrow. “ I like to think of it more as having functioning taste buds.”

  
  


“ _Anyway_ ,” growled Hubert. “While the aroma of hawthorn is enticing alone, when one gets blood on it, then it becomes  _irresistible_ .”

  
  


“I see.” Ferdinand hooked a finger around Hubert’s thumb as he pressed a bandage down. “If I may ask, why do you wear these so openly in public?”

  
  


Hubert chuckled. “If I am not on a stealth mission, the fact is that I want them to see me. My presence alone should be enough to send them running.”

  
  


“You are… quite intense.”

  
  


“I simply care about my work. Pardon.” Hubert tapped Ferdinand on the hip to direct him out of the way so that he could open a drawer under his work table. The contact only made his hairs stand a little bit on end. He dropped the pin into the drawer where his others clattered among the bundles of unwoven twigs. When he moved to close the drawer, Ferdinand put out a hand to stop him. “What?”

  
  


Ferdinand was looking into the drawer with eyes that sparkled as if he’d just discovered  the stars for the first time. “You make all of these?”

  
  


“I could always be hoarding a bunch of unfinished pieces for the fun of it,” Hubert said flatly. Ferdinand pouted. “Yes. I make them.”

  
  


Ferdinand plucked a ring of twigs from the drawer and turned it in his hand, a smile pulling at his cheeks. “They are really beautiful. I didn’t know that you were capable of such delicate work.”

  
  


There was something about Ferdinand calling him  _delicate_ that made Hubert’s skin crawl. “Are you quite done yet?”

  
  


“Oh, right!” Ferdinand pocketed the wreath that he’d been adoring, now officially having stolen two from Hubert. “Sorry. May I?”

  
  


Hubert gave Ferdinand a weary look, and Ferdinand smiled in response as if he’d received an unequivocal “yes.” He followed Hubert’s stern gaze and hastily returned to patching up his hand. With the fresh bandages, the stinging had faded somewhat, but Hubert wondered if all of the pain of this interaction didn’t outweigh the help. At least he’d managed to appease Ferdinand enough to be left alone. That was, whenever Ferdinand finished smoothing out every individual air bubble in the medical tape. Hubert tried to sit still and be patient, but when Ferdinand raked his fingers across his knuckles, it set Hubert off too much to be suppressed.

  
  


“Were you not going to  _go_ and get your blasted work done?”

  
  


Ferdinand winced visibly at the stern tone and released Hubert’s hand. When had the room become so cold? “Right, yes, of course. I really should, um.” He paused in the doorway. “Would you… give me a ride back?”

  
  


“Can you not get a ride?” Hubert growled. He was fully intent on getting some time alone after this facade.

  
  


“I guess I could call my driver,” Ferdinand hummed, hands on his hips. “May I ask for the address of your secret underground vampire hunting lair? For my driver.”

  
  


Hubert sighed. “I will drive you to a subway station.”

* * *

The wind of passing cars buffeted Hubert as he slunk along the concrete walls. The reckless driving of the city inhabitants growing excited when the roads clear up in the dead of night. Hubert fingered his pin and peered around the corner to where the last soul of the night, a stocky janitor, locked the doors behind him and tottered off towards the parking garage.

  
  


Hubert made quick work of the front door lock and ducked into the lobby. His shoes squeaked on the fresh wax as he crossed over to the security system and punched in the cods that he’d known since before there was even a concrete move-in plan for Edelgard’s office.

  
  


The stairs were never a particularly fun prospect for Hubert, considering how high his destination was, but he was even less of a fan of submitting to the whims of an elevator at such a dubious time of night. So, pen light between his teeth, Hubert subjected his knees to the long haul of climbing up the flights towards the sixth floor.

  
  


He paused at the door to catch his breath, aware of his fleeting youth. If anyone knew of the amount of work that he was putting in for something that would ultimately be helpful for Ferdinand, he would never be able to live it down. No, when Ferdinand found out about his knowledge of this information, _if_ he ever found out, Hubert would make sure that the assumption was that he simply conjured it effortlessly by being somehow aware of _everything_. He quite liked being viewed that way.

  
  


Sufficiently steadied, Hubert poked his way out into the empty office, careful to place his feet where the floorboards wouldn’t creak. It took some guessing and checking to figure out which desk  belonged to Ferdinand’s assistant-slash-girlfriend. Her desktop was haphazardly scattered with documents, clearly having been stacked, pushed, and redistributed so that other office workers could take the things they needed for work without disturbing her left-behind belongings.

  
  


Skimming through Flayn’s files and documents gleaned nothing that screamed  _useful information_ , even when Hubert gave her drawers an extra pass to make absolutely sure. The woman was definitely involved in her work. The only things that landed on her desk were important business documents, most of which likely belonged with Ferdinand, if he were actually to pull his head out of his rear and do his own work.

  
  


If she had nothing about her life, that would leave Hubert with nowhere to look but the desk of her employer…

  
  


It was hard for Hubert to force himself through the doorway of Ferdinand’s office. Where he had similar hangups about intruding on Edelgard’s spaces uninvited, those were out of respect, and this was something of a preemptive embarrassment. He was sure that somehow, as soon as he set foot in there, it would be impossible to keep his snooping a secret. As if Ferdinand would be able to smell him on his things. If he were discovered in this moment… the consequences would be exceedingly mild, but he would never personally recover.

  
  


Hubert shuffled into the office, breathing shallowly so as not to get too many lungfuls of whatever floral potpourri made Ferdinand and his space smell so inviting. He had to deal with  the obstacle of a lock on his filing cabinet, one which was easily bypassed with a little raking, but left Hubert having to hunch in the corner while the pick rattled agonizingly loudly in the empty space. He already felt so exposed, so out of sorts. Maybe it was the fact that Edelgard didn’t know about this outing. Maybe it was the tiny urge that Hubert had in the back of his mind to sift through Ferdinand’s things for his own  _personal reasons_ . What would he even find? Did he expect to come upon a damned pin-up calendar of Ferdinand, tucked among his innocuous business documents?

  
  


Hurriedly, Hubert straightened his focus and flipped through the cabinet towards the employee records. He snatched up Flayn’s file and skimmed it. Though his normal inclination would be to simply memorize the important parts of the contents, he was antsy to get out of here and was also fairly certain that Ferdinand wouldn’t notice the file’s disappearance. He could easily find time to return it, anyway.

  
  


When Hubert turned to find a way out of this capsule of fragrance and wandering thoughts, he caught the flicker of a shadow in the beam of his light, there and gone in an instant. He couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t a trick of the light, but he knew he would need to check. He crept towards its origin, breath held, escape route planned, weapons on his person inventoried.

  
  


The clatter of a plastic object being knocked to the floor pierced the silence, setting Hubert’s nerves aflame. The shadow startled even more than he, bolting visibly in a flutter towards the stairs.

  
  


Though Hubert considered the possibility of the intruder simply being another thief digging for files,  the sheer speed and ease with which the shadow tackled the stairwell told a different story. When Hubert followed the form out onto the eighth floor,  he had to step over a trail of freshly shed grayish scales. The beast had transformed to get away. Hubert picked up his pace to follow the trail, but came to a flat halt when he realized that he was headed straight into the entrance of Edelgard’s office.

  
  


Wind swept against Hubert’s sweat-drenched face from where the beast had crawled out of a window. Hubert lingered for a moment, hand on the threshold, hair whipping across his forehead, before crossing trepiditiously over and poking his head out. Looking up, down, no sign of the creature remained.

  
  


Cursing his slowness, Hubert  closed the window. He stooped to pick up the chunky, dry scales that were left behind. The cracked plates weighed even heavier on him than the stolen file. With the ward he’d burned into the floorboards, there was no way that a vampire would be able to run through this floor unhindered, let alone transform in the middle of Edelgard’s office. Something was wrong.

  
  


Hubert was careful to gather all of the shed scales and discard them on another floor before he left, exhausted enough to rely on the elevator this time.  He couldn’t begin to understand how a vampire had managed to break into his and Edelgard’s office. The sheer about of redundant protections he’d put in place, between garlic powder under the rugs, oak ash perimetering the room, and potted versions of every plant he knew would garner a reaction in the beasts, should have been more than enough to deter even a particularly careful creature.

  
  


Lines of stress were setting into Hubert’s face when he saw himself in the rear view mirror. He discarded his gloves in the passenger seat and stretched his fingers, studying the bandages on his one hand. When he put his knuckles to his face, the lingering scent of Ferdinand and his overzealous touch was just detectable.

  
  


Hubert simply sat in his car for some time, hand to his mouth, breathing. Trying to chase away the stress. He would have to find a way to somehow refresh his ward on the office without tearing up the carpet or otherwise disturbing the state of the workspace. Though, if something had managed to bypass his carefully woven defenses, it was unlikely that something so haphazard would hold much at all.

  
  


The most important thing Hubert would need to do is make sure that Edelgard didn’t find out. She had enough on her plate already, and anything that had the power to break down the strict divide that she kept between her work and her hunting would be intensely stressful for her. If Hubert could simply manage to keep any potential beasts out of the office, it would be as though the wards were never broken. She would never need to get even a hint that their measures had failed.

  
  



	10. Act 2 Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some new character introductions, and plenty of quiet yearning.

“Dammit!”

  
  


Hubert clicked his tongue. “Tired already? We’ve barely been at it for an hour.”

  
  


“How am I supposed to handle this, Hubert?” Ferdinand rolled his shoulders. “It’s _killing_ my arms.”

  
  


Hubert sighed, wrenched the bow from Ferdinand’s hands, and promptly planted three arrows straight into the center of the target. “We will stop when you can do  _that_ ,” he hissed. “Now come on, the draw weight is a measly forty pounds. Aren’t you  _in shape_ ?”

  
  


Ferdinand took the bow back with a huff, kicking up a cloud of gravel as he spun to face the target once more. “In shape, meaning that I go sporting on occasion, Hubert,” chewed Ferdinand. “I do not have the free time that allows you to yank on strings all day.” With a  _thunk_ , another arrow landed in the board behind the block target. Ferdinand’s jaw clenched and he visibly resisted the urge to cry out.

  
  


A cold look from Hubert sent Ferdinand jogging to retrieve the sunk arrows. Watching him was quite the delight; Ferdinand had taken the memo to wear something comfortable to train in as an invitation for him to wear his gleaming white and yellow golfing outfit. The bottom of those pure, pearly pants was already turning gray with kicked-up dust and gravel, with a couple of hand-prints smeared along the sides for good measure. Hubert swore up and down that he was eyeing the amusing stains along his hips, not the revealing nature of the light fabric on his rear.

  
  


Hubert chuckled to himself at Ferdinand’s absurd fashion as he retreated into the shade of the old warehouse to get his black-clad body out from under the beating sun. In the repurposed training pit of a lot, surrounded on all sides by concrete and brick slabs, the only sound that caught Hubert’s ears was the crunching of gravel underfoot as Ferdinand trotted and, to the other side, Emile practiced swinging his sickle with his non-dominant hand.  It was calm here. Secluded. Hubert spent more time than he would like to admit hanging around with the training equipment and weaponry whenever he had the chance.

  
  


As Ferdinand took back to sinking arrows, Hubert tucked into some reading material. He was still working on poking his way through the notebook he’d lifted off of Ferdinand, and it was certainly an interesting red. There were actually a few useful conclusions in his notes, likely a result of the sheer quantity of things written down. But, for as many times that the broken clock of Ferdinand was correct about things such as decapitation and silver, there were just as many lunatic ravings about how important the aesthetics of a vampire mansion were or how exciting it was to be kissed on the neck. Hubert got the feeling that Ferdinand needed to get some things out of his system. He wondered if it would have been for the better if he’d soundly bedded his assistant before she’d gone and disappeared.

  
  


“You know,” Ferdinand complained loudly over his shoulder as he aimed with truly dreadful form. “I would be doing an awful lot better if I had, say, a sword of some kind. I did say that I was good at fencing, did I not?”

  
  


Hubert cocked an eyebrow and paged through the notebook. “Tell me, Ferdinand, would you like to discuss this missive about how you wish to be stolen away to a lonely mansion to be seduced and drained by a creature of the night?”

  
  


Ferdinand gaped, and his arrow went so wide that it clattered against the far wall. “What—there… there’s nothing about  _that_ in there!”

  
  


“Is there, though?”

  
  


For a moment, Ferdinand stood with his mouth hanging open, eyes shooting to and fro as he investigated his memories.  As his brow grew more furrowed, so too did his face turn redder. When he put a hand to his mouth, Hubert was no longer able to contain his laughter.

  
  


“For the record, I have not yet found anything in here about that explicitly,” jeered Hubert. “But the very fact that you had to ask yourself if you wrote it is quite telling.” He flipped the page. “Ah, now here is something that is also  _interesting_ . Let’s see, it is titled  _effects of Hubert_ . Hm.”

  
  


Ferdinand dropped the bow and charged Hubert, who smoothly dodged him. “Hubert! Please, there is nothing of worth on that page, just--”

  
  


“Ah, ah, ah. If you wrote it at all, it must be important.  What are these effects…?”

  
  


“Hubert, I promise that it is all perfectly reasonable. Just remember that I wrote this while I was sure that you were a vampire, and--”

  
  


“Let’s see… Nerves, okay. Increased heart rate, increased body temp, interesting. Dizziness, my, my that isn’t good. Sweating, flushing, Ferdinand, it sounds as though you were getting a fever.” He tapped his finger on the item at the bottom of the list and raised an eyebrow at it. “What is this one?  _Unseemly thoughts_ ? Now what could possibly cause that?”

  
  


Ferdinand watched from between his fingers as he hid his face from Hubert. “Now, listen, don’t vampires have a… a  _thing_ that they do to manipulate their prey. A thrall? It was a valid theory!”

  
  


“So, you think that this nervousness, and, er, perversion, was a result of a thrall, then?” Hubert hummed. “It is certainly an interesting theory…”

  
  


As Ferdinand dragged his hands down his face, his vermilion face was exposed. Hubert couldn’t recall a time that he’d seen someone so utterly mortified. “Well,” puffed Ferdinand, “now I know that you’re not a vampire, so I guess it was nothing--”

  
  


“Are you a fool?”

  
  


“Pardon?”

  
  


“Are you an absolute fool?” Hubert shut the notebook and smacked it against his hand. “ Even  _you_ should be able to figure out that a thrall should make the target more calm and relaxed, so that their guard is lowered. What purpose would a carnivore have in making its prey more nervous?”

  
  


“Well, I just thought--”

  
  


“This nonsense you’ve documented, it’s not even close to the experience of a thrall. It’s far more reminiscent of a schoolgirl writing in her diary about her crush.” Hubert scoffed at the very idea; of all people to be enamored in such a way, it would make sense for Ferdinand to be the sort. But with  _him_ ? The thought was laughable. “Stop making that face, Ferdinand. Get back to work.”

  
  


Ferdinand clapped his mouth shut and flipped his hair defiantly as he snatched the bow from where he left it on the ground. “You know, it is quite bold of you to bully me so while you are training me to kill.”

  
  


Setting aside the notebook, Hubert emerged from the shade with a sneer. “It is a good thing that I’m  _not_ , then.”

  
  


Ferdinand’s nostrils flared. “I think what you’re doing most certainly constitutes as bullying.”

  
  


“I’m not talking about that. You are not going to be killing anything until you become a better shot.”

  
  


“Thank you for the encouragement,” Ferdinand jeered as he nocked another arrow and tensely pulled back the string.

  
  


“For all your research, you should know that those arrows don’t even have the capability to kill beasts.” Hubert sauntered next to Ferdinand to eye his posture. Ferdinand’s lashes caught the sunlight as he glanced to Hubert in his periphery.

  
  


“I fail to see how an arrow in the head could  _not_ kill something,” Ferdinand huffed.

  
  


“You saw it yourself the other day,” explained Hubert, swiping an arrow from Ferdinand’s quiver and twirling it deftly. “One of your shots landed soundly in the skull of the beast, and yet it did nothing but stagger it. These arrows are designed to do just that as effectively as possible. Tell me, Ferdinand, since the answer is available in your rather in-depth study guide. What can kill a vampire?”

  
  


Ferdinand sighed as he loosed the arrow, which landed on the edge of the target. He dropped his sloppy stance to think as Hubert circled him. “Well, sunlight must not do it, as you are out here right now.”

  
  


Hubert thwacked Ferdinand in the chest with the bottom of the arrow. “You would do well to keep the sass on lock.”

  
  


“Whatever,” Ferdinand muttered. “It isn’t my fault that being a vampire was your most attractive quality.”

  
  


“ _Pardon_ ?”

  
  


“ Sunlight isn’t deadly,” said Ferdinand, chin in the air. “Because the ones from the other day were out and about no problem. So, that leaves… silver?”

  
  


“Painful, but not fatal.”

  
  


“Fire?”

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


“Decapitation.”

  
  


“Yes again.”

  
  


“And, of course, staking.”

  
  


“There’s all that reading paying off,” congratulated Hubert. “Though  there are some more unique methods, such as dead man’s blood , those are the most classic. These arrows are tipped with silver, and coated in myrrh resin, both intensely intrusive to a vampire’s system. They are designed to stun and disorient. Not kill.”

  
  


Ferdinand took back the arrow and squinted at it. The sunlight had done well to bring out a smattering of russet freckles across the bridge of his nose that had been hidden thus far. “So, you are training me with a bow so that I can be a distraction,” he said flatly.

  
  


“That will be the case if you cannot fix your form,” said Hubert. He swung by one of the weapon racks and pulled out a quiver to present to Ferdinand. “These are stake arrows. Don’t touch them. They are delicate, and rather long, so they are difficult to use.”

  
  


“Should I not be training with those?”

  
  


“As I said, they are delicate. I’m surprised you haven’t snapped any of the normal arrows yet, your form is so dreadful.”

  
  


“Dreadful,” muttered Ferdinand. “It is your job to teach me, is it not? Why not show me?”

  
  


“Gladly.” Hubert palmed the bow and nocked one of the long, wooden stakes, his shoulders falling easily into the proper position. He focused, breathed, slipped into the head space that he called his home. The arrow sailed silently and pierced clean through the center of the target. He smirked, nocked another arrow.

  
  


“You see,” said Hubert as he lined up another shot. “Vampires are stubborn creatures. By forfeiting their humanity, so too do they sacrifice the grace of a clean, simple death.” He breathed out through his nose, sunk another arrow right next to the first. “They need to be soundly, completely obliterated. Head fully severed, body burnt to dust, or, of course, staked. Preferably with oak. And it must puncture all the way to the other side. Classically, this is to pin them to their coffin.”

  
  


“Okay.” Ferdinand watched, arms crossed, hips cocked. “As informative as this is, I fail to see how the form you’re using for these arrows is any different from mine.”

  
  


Hubert rolled his eyes. “Thus why you aren’t using them. Go back to shooting.” Once he’d gathered the wooden arrows and stowed the quiver, Hubert returned to the shade to watch Ferdinand. It was clear that he was tired, but that would earn him no lenience from Hubert. He called criticisms from his oasis of shadow: “Loosen your shoulders; don’t stick out your chest so; pointing your finger like that does nothing to help you aim.”

  
  


After some hazing, Ferdinand gave an enormous sigh. “Fine,  _teacher_ , will you  _show_ me?”

  
  


Hubert clicked his tongue and emerged once more from the shade to address Ferdinand. “I seem to recall,” he said, crossing into Ferdinand’s personal space in an intimidation attempt, “I already did.”

  
  


Ferdinand frowned, less scared and more weary. “Please?”

  
  


Hubert paused. Where had that pride gone? It was far less fun to hound Ferdinand when he was so earnestly approaching things. Perhaps he was truly that motivated. “Very well. Take your stance as if you would fire an arrow. And  _don’t_ dry fire it.”

  
  


The absolute stiffness to Ferdinand’s creaking movements was so egregious that Hubert was convinced it was some kind of ploy. It was somehow even worse than it had just been. If he thought that exaggerating his failures would get him out of his training, he was dead wrong.

  
  


“How many times must I tell you to relax your shoulders?” Hubert circled Ferdinand, hands behind his back. “In fact, the sheer tension you’re holding may be more than the bow itself, I fear.” When Ferdinand didn’t settle at his command, he reached from behind him to push down on his clenched shoulders, making him leap visibly.

  
  


“ Watch your grip,” Hubert warned, pushing a knuckle into the knot in Ferdinand’s neck. Somehow, he was more tense than Hubert, who had had a crick in his neck since before puberty. Sighing, Hubert circled back to Ferdinand’s front. A dusting of pink had joined the speckles on his face. It seemed odd for someone so concerned with his appearance to neglect sunscreen.

  
  


“And, for the last time,” hissed Hubert, “if you do not tie it up  _properly_ , not what looks good, but properly, you will surely lose a few strands of that precious hair of yours. Painfully, too.”

  
  


The hot air froze for a second when Ferdinand met Hubert’s gaze. Hubert had been moving with such automatic confidence, he hadn’t even noticed that he’d gone so far as to sweep some of the framing strands at Ferdinand’s face over his finger and begun to comb it into the rest of his hair. His fingertips were just ghosting by Ferdinand’s jaw, and he was sure that without the barrier of his glove, he would be able to feel the coarse prickles of freshly shorn stubble. Hubert swallowed tightly, suppressing a shiver as his mind raced beyond him with declarations of all the  _things_ he wanted to do to the man in front of him, none of which were even remotely acceptable.

  
  


A queer look was setting into Ferdinand’s face, as if he were holding in laughter. So this  _was_ a ploy… Hubert’s skin crawled. If only he could show Ferdinand the effect that he had, so that he could make him regret this.

  
  


Metal creaked behind Hubert, making him all but leap out of his own skeleton as he scrambled away from Ferdinand. To think that he would stoop so low. Though he’d been waiting tirelessly for this fixation to pass on, his patience had not yet rewarded him with any sign that it was going to go anywhere.

  
  


“How is progress carrying on here?”

  
  


Hubert jumped once more and twisted to face Edelgard where she’d entered the courtyard. “Edelgard. We are. Ah. Doing normally.”

  
  


“Normal sounds good, I think,” said Edelgard, sweeping her way gracefully across the gravel. Among the sweaty men, she may well have been a supermodel. “I presume that Ferdinand has made great strides?”

  
  


“Well.” Hubert bit his tongue. Now was not the time to make snide comments.

  
  


“Actually Edelgard, I, um.” Ferdinand had started to stride in Edelgard’s direction, but his pace stuttered and he stopped himself stiffly to address her from a distance, the red of what Hubert had assumed was a sunburn deepening. “Edelgard, may I actually speak with you about something that has been concerning me?” When Hubert shot a look in Ferdinand’s direction, he visibly shrunk away, gripping the bow tightly in front of him as if it would protect him from Hubert’s intensity. Surely this _concern_ of his would be something to do with Hubert’s conduct, and, though Hubert was embarrassed by the implication, he couldn’t really blame him.

  
  


“May we hold a meeting with the, erm, the team?” asked Ferdinand. To think that he intended to shame Hubert in front of his peers, as well? How cruel of him.

  
  


Edelgard shot an awkward look in Hubert’s direction before answering Ferdinand. “Hm, unfortunately we will have to get to that later, Ferdinand. We have an errand to attend to first. One of our contacts has summoned us.” She wrinkled her brow at Ferdinand’s pout. “Why don’t you come with?”

  
  


“Um.” Ferdinand shuffled his feet. “May I change first?”

  
  


“Of course.”

  
  


When Ferdinand all but sprinted inside, Hubert took it upon himself to clean up after him. It at least gave him some time to recover from the ordeal with Ferdinand. For how far he’d gone so suddenly, he was grateful that he didn’t have to deal with wearing such light, revealing clothes as Ferdinand; he was embarrassed enough at his behavior without anyone needing to see just how very worked up he was.

  
  


“ You are getting changed yourself, aren’t you, Hubert?” Edelgard crossed the gravel pit to him. “Or did you think you weren’t coming with?”

  
  


Hubert nearly dropped the arrow he’d so carefully pulled from its target. He truly was so frazzled that he had no clue what he was doing with himself. “Of course, Edelgard,” he said stiffly. “May I ask where we’re going?”

  
  


“Mercedes called. She has something for us to look at.”

  
  


“Ah.” Hubert furrowed his brow. He couldn’t think of anything at the hospital that would need their attention out of the blue like this. “Did she say what it was?”

  
  


Edelgard shook her head. “Very hush-hush. I think she’s still scared to say anything relating to vampires aloud.”

  
  


Hubert made quicker work of cleaning up and checked with Emile before getting ready to leave. Emile was insistent that he wasn’t finished with training, and Hubert knew that there was no hope of convincing him to take a break to see his sister. While he was taking his leave, Hubert was stopped by Edelgard’s hand on his arm.

  
  


“Hubert,” she said, her face stern, “what is it that you’re doing to Ferdinand?”

  
  


“ _Me?_ ” Hubert cleared his throat forcibly when his outrage surfaced. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

  
  


A tired shadow crossed Edelgard’s eyes. The oh, so dreadful gaze of disappointment. Hubert hadn’t had that one directed at him in a long while. “If you say so.”

* * *

Hubert felt rather exposed going through the front entrance to the hospital. Apparently, Mercedes had been insistent that they act as naturally as possible for the purposes of this visit, so visitors they were for today. No illicit deals, no supply runs, no back-door sneaking.

  
  


When greeted by the receptionist, Edelgard broke away from the group to speak to her while Hubert kept his stride consistent. He knew that if he just carried himself with the confidence of someone who belonged there, no one would pay him any mind. However, peculiarly, he found that the passing nurses and guests were giving him odd looks. That couldn’t be right…

  
  


“So, er, where exactly are we headed to?”

  
  


“ _Christ_.” Hubert startled so bad that he ground to a complete halt, spinning on a dime. “Ferdinand, _what_ are you doing here?”

  
  


Ferdinand collided with Hubert from the sheer momentum from keeping up with his brisk pace. He  stabilized himself on Hubert’s shoulders, perching himself far too close and officially making this farce even more awkward. “Well, I.” Ferdinand clicked his tongue and gave Hubert a sarcastic look. “ I guess I was  _told_ to come, Hubert.”

  
  


“ Yes, but--” Hubert stopped to groan and shift out from under Ferdinand’s hands.  He had to admit that he was so certain that Ferdinand would stick to Edelgard that he’d carried on as if he were walking solo. What reason had he to heel to Hubert, anyway? “Nevermind.”

  
  


When Hubert whirled to continue forward, he could feel Ferdinand’s eyes on his back, but he had no interest in giving him any more dialogue. If he’d wanted to be talked to, he shouldn’t have tagged along with him.  Carrying on as the cushy, carpeted lobby halls turned into something more clean and sparse, Hubert followed the overhead signs towards one of a handful of small chapels in the hospital. He ducked inside with Ferdinand close at his heels and squinted into the relative darkness of the space to scan and make sure that there were no onlookers inside.

  
  


“Ah, Hubert.” From a frontmost pew, Mercedes rose and greeted Hubert with a smile, though her round face was set with clear stress. She crossed over to take Hubert’s hand graciously. “I’m so glad you could come in on such short notice. Is Edelgard…?”

  
  


“She is on her way as well.”

  
  


“Good. We can wait for her; I think she’ll want to see this. How is Emile?”

  
  


“He is recovering well,” answered Hubert. He turned to follow her curious eyes and added in his most polite voice: “Mercedes, this is  Ferdinand. He is… new.”

  
  


Ferdinand gave a dramatic bow that may have been so extravagant to make up for Hubert’s lackluster introduction. “Pleased to meet you, Mercedes. I am Ferdinand  _von Aegir_ . Tell me, are you using the Hresvelg family bank, or have you considered--”

  
  


“Oh, my, a banker. How charming,” intercut Mercedes. “I didn’t realize that your group of vampire hunters needed to seek financial advice.”

  
  


“That is where you have things wrong, Mercedes,” declared Ferdinand. “I am here to fight. Well, obviously not  _here_ , but that is what I’m doing in the group.”

  
  


Hubert hunched somewhat under Mercedes’s questioning gaze. “He does actually fight, yes.”

  
  


“Wow,” breathed Mercedes. “I had assumed that Emile’s injury was a temporary one, but if you are really desperate to get more man power, then—”

  
  


“He is an old friend of Edelgard’s,” Hubert cut in, noticing how close Ferdinand seemed to be to trying to defend himself.

  
  


Mercedes’s soft brows rose. “Oh, I see. Is that all it takes these days?”

  
  


Hubert closed his eyes and sighed, mostly to suppress the snicker that her words brought on. “ It is a rather long story. In a nutshell, he was better off being let in on the truth than acting on misinformed assumptions.”

  
  


“Misinformed assumptions? Such as?”

  
  


“He thought that I was a vampire.”

  
  


“ Oh, my.”

  
  


Even under the low, blue-tinged light that filtered through the faux stained glass on the doors, the bright red of Ferdinand’s face cut through clear and true. Hubert was delighted to have a break from Edelgard’s attempts to keep the peace.  It was great to finally have some support for antagonizing Ferdinand; he could watch that uppity pout for hours on a good day.

  
  


As Ferdinand blushed at the laughter, he straightened up and poised himself as though he were handling things gracefully. “My, Mercedes,” he said, “why do I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much?”

  
  


Hubert chortled at that. “You will have to get used to her; you will see her often. Supply runs are simple enough to trust you with.” As he spoke, Hubert perched himself on the edge of a pew and crossed his legs, but when Ferdinand seated himself next to him, he got straight back up and stood pointedly away. No need for excessive proximity. “Though,” Hubert continued, tenting his fingers, “you may find a way to screw it up yet.”

  
  


Ferdinand scowled, though his sweet face made the expression fall rather flat. “Some faith you put in me.” He crossed his arms and peered into the colorful windows at the doors. The ethereal pattern upon his face stirred some minor appreciation for beauty in Hubert. “What sorts of supplies are we even getting from here? Are you stooping so low as to skim from a  _hospital_ ?”

  
  


“It isn’t just stealing,” chided Hubert. “What purpose do you think Mercedes serves in this arrangement?”

  
  


Mercedes folded her hands. “With enough overhead, there’s no concern about running short.”

  
  


Hubert nodded. “With Mercedes’s help, we can get medical supplies, chemicals, blood--”

  
  


“Hubert, for the last time, I am not getting you blood. You need to stop asking.”

  
  


Laughter followed while Ferdinand comically reeled at that exchange, but the mirth quieted quickly when the doors creaked open. All eyes followed Edelgard as she carried herself smoothly inside and shook Mercedes’s hand pleasantly. Out of the corner of his eye, Hubert could see Ferdinand’s stiff shoulders relax somewhat with the return of his guardian from his bullying. When Ferdinand caught sight of Hubert’s looking, he tensed right back up, and Hubert directed his attention pointedly away. How he wished that he could get past the discomfort that such eye contact brought.

  
  


“ Mercedes,” said Edelgard, “it is too rare that I see you personally. Where is this thing you’ve called me to see?”

  
  


“Well, it’s… hm.” Mercedes tapped her fingers together in thought. “I think you would be better off just seeing her. Room 271. I’ve managed to convince the other nurses to leave her be.”

  
  


“Okay. Room 271. Hubert, Ferdinand?”

  
  


Ferdinand waved at her from where he lounged on the pew. “Actually, I may stay behind and chat with Mercedes,” he said thoughtfully. “I think I can get her to like me with just a little bit of charm.”

  
  


Edelgard quirked an eyebrow and glanced Hubert’s way. Hubert shrugged. “I see no problem with offloading him for the time being,” he said. “Mercedes, do you mind watching him?”

  
  


“It would be my pleasure.”

  
  


“Very well, then,” said Edelgard. “We will get you on the way out.  Hubert, let’s go.”

  
  


Edelgard led at her always brisk pace, perhaps her way of compensating for her short limbs. Hubert easily fell into line with her as she whirled through the halls with a haste only matched by the nurses with urgent tasks at hand. Hubert sucked in lungfuls of the chemical-scented air as they hustled. A strangely comforting smell—like a clean death.

  
  


“I didn’t see you much the other night,” said Edelgard, peeking over her shoulder to where Hubert hung at her heels. “Where were you?”

  
  


Hubert met her eye for a moment, but his gaze trailed tot he signs on the walls as he answered. “I stopped by the office,” he said, opening with a healthy dose of truth. “Just for some research.”

  
  


“Research?” Edelgard hummed and put her hands in her pockets. “I would have thought you to have  _researched_ the office dry by now. What more is there?”

  
  


“May I not take a passing interest in the state of the… merger?” Though his hesitation was minuscule, in Hubert’s mind it hung like a gulf, piled high with every thought he’d had in the past week about the failed wards in her office.

  
  


The absence of a response from Edelgard was a blow to Hubert’s confidence. He knew fully well how disappointed she was, but she was simply better off not knowing. A cloud of silence carried with them the rest of the way to the destination room, which Edelgard ducked into with overt caution.

  
  


“My god,” breathed Edelgard when she saw what was beyond the entrance to the dim hospital room. “Hubert, this is…”

  
  


Hubert poked his head around the divider and let the door swish closed behind him. In the bed, sallow and small, was a young woman, though the shadows on her face and graying of her hairline could have fooled anyone at first glance. Stirring from the sounds of her impromptu visitors, her head rolled to the side and she winced when the bandage on her neck crinkled at the movement.

  
  


“Are you… Edelgard?” The woman’s eyes eased open, hooded and set into dark rings. “I was told that you can help me with my… ailment.”

  
  


Hubert hung back in the shadows as Edelgard stepped forward. “Yes, that is me. I should have known, Mercedes calling us could only mean something like this.” She sighed, put a hand on hers. “Tell me, what is your name?”

  
  


With the haze in her eyes, it was clear that simply staying awake was a struggle for the woman right now. “Lysithea.”

  
  


“Well, Lysithea.” Edelgard pulled an armchair from under the window and sat next to the bed. “Now that we’re here, everything will start getting better for you. Okay?”

  
  


“You don’t need to tell me lies,” said Lysithea, conjuring bitterness in her tone despite her state. “I can handle the truth.”

  
  


“The truth, huh?” Edelgard put a knuckle to her chin. “It may not be what you expect.”

  
  


Lysithea propped herself on her elbows, arms trembling with the effort. “Do not pull punches, Edelgard. I’m an adult, just like you.”

  
  


Edelgard seemed impressed by her gumption, and Hubert found himself similarly moved. With a smile, Edelgard gave Lysithea’s shoulder a squeeze and adjusted the pillows to help her settle back down comfortably. “To tell the truth, Lysithea, I haven’t seen this before, but I have heard of it. Hubert, will you check her out?”

  
  


Hubert startled. He’d been so comfortably disappearing into the set dressing, he found himself unprepared to be addressed. “Yes, Edelgard.” He moved in to examine her, careful not to interject himself too much into the situation.

  
  


“Lysithea,” said Edelgard, “why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  
  


Lysithea watched Hubert with heavy eyelids as he quietly went about something resembling a check-up, observing her pale skin, her fingernails, checking her vitals. “I can’t say I completely remember,” she said, eyes sinking shut in thought. “I was… visiting with family. Dinner with my parents and siblings.” When she trailed off to think and catch her weak breath, Hubert moved to pull away the bandage on her neck. She recoiled somewhat, but didn’t resist further. “There was someone unfamiliar there,” she continued quietly. “I figured that he was with someone else. But, I guess that’s what everyone thought. No one asked about him.”

  
  


“You were tricked,” said Edelgard. Concern was setting into her brow, a concern that Hubert shared. The only vampires that were able to insert themselves so seamlessly into human interactions were exceptionally powerful ones, either ancient immortals or offspring of other strong beasts.

  
  


Lysithea turned to look at her, giving Hubert a good vantage over the puncture wounds in her neck. They were disturbingly clean. Satisfied by that sight, Hubert swept aside her hair, a strange mixture of white and strawberry blonde, and replaced the bandage.

  
  


“He ripped them apart,” whispered Lysithea. A gleam of a tear was visible on her cheeks where the sun that peaked through the curtains hit her face. “Everyone, except us.”

  
  


“Lysithea, you don’t need to recall every detail.”

  
  


“My brothers and sisters, he—he bit them, and it did something _awful_ to them.” Her bony fingers bunched at the sheets. Edelgard took one of her hands to give her something else to grip. “Two of them died. The others, they’re gone. What happened to _me?_ ”

  
  


Edelgard took in a breath. “I hesitate to call anything that happened to you  _fortunate_ ,” she said at length, “but, you may have gotten off better than your siblings. Lysithea, you were attacked by a vampire.”

  
  


“That much I had gathered,” she butted in harshly. “It  _is_ strange, but I don’t know everything. I would get nowhere assuming that such a thing can’t be real. I won’t tell anyone, if you don’t want.”

  
  


Edelgard nodded. “Their existence is not a secret many live to be able to tell. You are, well, maybe lucky, maybe unlucky, depending on how you look at it. Your body is rejecting the venom that turns humans into vampires. It’s a rather… unusual phenomenon.”

  
  


She was looking Hubert’s way. The burden fell to him to explain the details. “This isn’t the first it’s happened, that much is certain. It isn’t known exactly what causes it. Unique immune systems. This… premature aging—the gray hairs, the drying skin—these are signs of the venom trying and failing to kill you. In the case of a successful turning, the victim dies quickly, before being… forced back to life. You are stagnating in the first stage.”

  
  


“So, am I going to die soon?”

  
  


Hubert shrugged. “If your body can’t handle the unwelcome aging, you may. If not, the worst you may face is severely early onset menopause.”

  
  


“Menopause, at age thirty. Joy.” Lysithea sagged and crossed her arms over her face, her pale skin stark white against the clinical blue of the gown.

  
  


“I know it sounds bad, but.” Edelgard put a hand to Lysithea’s elbow and eased her arms back down. “Chances are good that you will recover from this. Cases such as this have been known to lead… surprisingly long lives, assuming there are no complications.”

  
  


“What good is a long life if I’m stuck in bed, to old to function before my life even starts?” Lysithea sighed, puffing some white strands of hair out of her face.

  
  


Edelgard opened her mouth, but hesitated before she spoke. Her expression was complicated, intense. “Lysithea, I promise we will do whatever we can to make sure you can be up and about as soon as possible.” The confident stare  that the two women shared seemed to restore some of Lysithea’s constitution right then and there. “Until then,” Edelgard said. “Please, be gentle with yourself.”

  
  


“That will be a hard promise to keep, but I will try, Edelgard, as long as you do your part.”

  
  


“Of course.” Edelgard rose and scooted her chair back into its spot. “I will let you sleep, for now. Expect to see us again soon, Lysithea. Until then, rest up.”

  
  


“You seem in rather good spirits,” Hubert remarked as he followed Edelgard out and downstairs.

  
  


“As do you,” she reflected.

  
  


Hubert raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t realized that he was behaving any different than normally. “She is a rather unique specimen,” he said. “I will have to request some blood samples from Mercedes.”

  
  


Edelgard’s hair flipped behind her in a smooth chestnut arc as she whirled around the stairwell. “Of course you will. Remember that she is a person, still. Her safety should be our first priority.”

  
  


“Yes, yes.” Hubert slowed somewhat to consider the woman’s unfortunate fate. Had she not been so fortunate as to resist the turning, she would now be just another soulless beast to be slain. He couldn’t help but wonder just how many of the monsters he’d downed were people who would have jumped at the opportunity to be like her. Or how many didn’t have a chance to consider their fate at all.

  
  


Edelgard’s confident gait sputtered to a stop as the shrill rattling of her cell phone cut into the relative quiet of the hospital. She checked the display, knitted her brow. “Work. I’ve got to take this. Meet me in the lobby?”

  
  


Hubert watched as Edelgard broke away from him, shifting seamlessly into the firm voice that she used with business associates.  He wondered just how much she was working herself to the bone, even with his taking as much of the load as he could. Between leading her bank and the taxing work of vampire hunting, there was no room left in her life for anything at all. 

  
  


Hubert steeled himself at the doors of the chapel, wholly conscious of the bantering voices of Ferdinand and Mercedes on the other side. It certainly appeared that they were having a good time.

  
  


“Ferdinand, we are… going.” Huh. The laughter, the speaking, all sound stopped as Hubert  walked in the room. An unfamiliar twinge set in his gut. They were talking about him. 

  
  


“So soon?” Ferdinand gave an exaggerated pout, and Hubert felt suddenly like he wanted to run away. “I suppose I will have to see you again soon, Mercedes.” He rose from where he lounged on the edge of a pew, sweeping his hair behind his shoulder. There was something in the dim lighting, only just bouncing off of the highlights of his face, which made him look rather ethereal. How strangely in-place he looked among the paintings of angels.

  
  


“Oh!” Ferdinand clapped his hands. “And I promise I will bring snacks next time.”

  
  


“Ooh, you might just win me over doing things like that,” chirped Mercedes.

  
  


Hubert eyed Ferdinand with a scowl. Of course the damnable ray of sunshine would manage to get on with Mercedes easily. It really was starting to seem like Hubert was the only one who had trouble conversing with him.

  
  


“Say, Hubert,” Mercedes said, eyebrows raised. “Just so you know, you can tell anything to me, no matter what it is.” She got up and took Hubert’s hands in hers.

  
  


Hubert furrowed his brow and pulled back from her as politely as he could. “Why, yes, I will keep that in mind.”

  
  


“So, what is the outlook on Lysithea?” Mercedes’s playful expression turned into something more steady.

  
  


“She is most certainly something of interest,” Hubert said. “ Edelgard is set on helping her recover. I look forward to whatever I can learn from her. I will call you with an idea of what sort of treatment would suit her best.”

  
  


“Wonderful. Poor thing, she would surely be put through a rough time dealing with doctors who don’t understand her condition.” Mercedes put a hand on her chest and offered a genuine smile. “Thank you dearly, Hubert. And tell Edelgard how grateful I am, too.”

  
  


A wash of sickly-sweet floral scent came across Hubert as Ferdinand idly swept his locks into a loose ponytail, smoothing it out hand-over-hand. Did he wait to do this until he was right next to Hubert so that he could be as bothersome as possible? “I say,” Ferdinand said. “I hope I can come along the next time we’re out here; I would love to visit more with Mercedes.”

  
  


Mercedes giggled, but her eyes were sharp. “It seems you’ll have to pry him away, Hubert. Make sure not to forget him here; I know that you would miss him so if he stuck around with me.”

  
  


“Why of course. Ferdinand, let’s—um.” Hubert stopped, blinked, glanced back at Mercedes on his way out. He shook off his confusion when she waved him off. “Let’s… go.”

  
  



	11. Act 2 Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Action, and more action! Plus some rather gratuitous sexual tension addled sparring, because we all like that! What are y'all thinking of Emile so far? He's very silly to write.

“You look absolutely ridiculous, you know.”

  
  


“Ferdinand said that we should hide our identities on hunts,” said Emile.

  
  


Hubert sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. So that was what that blasted meeting Ferdinand wanted to have was about? He was deeply grateful that he’d been able to squirm his way out of that one. The unfortunate byproduct of whatever nonsense Ferdinand had heaped onto the others was the ski mask that Emile donned, glowing faintly in the cabin of the car with a vinyl skull print. “To hell with whatever Ferdinand says. You are with me. Take it off.”

  
  


Emile pulled the mask up with a frown. In the low light, Hubert could see that he’d loaded the areas around the eye holes with smudgy eyeliner, making him resemble a raccoon without the mask on. Hubert was trying to decide whether this look was better or worse for him than the glow-in-the-dark skull when he got truly sick of the puppy-dog eyes staring at him from the sea of black.

  
  


“Put it back on,” Hubert commanded begrudgingly. Glow-in-the-dark skull had just barely managed to win out. “But, my word, why the leather?” He flicked one of the spikes on Emile’s shoulders. “I know, I know, glass houses, but you are making _me_ feel warm just looking at you.”

  
  


Emile folded his hands in his lap, clearly pleased to have his outfit the way he wanted. “The insulation helps to get my blood boiling.”

  
  


“That is not how that works in the slightest.”

  
  


“Who are you to say?”

  
  


Hubert shook his head. “Are you ready to go?”

  
  


“Always.”

  
  


“Good.” With a click, Hubert opened the door and slid from the car into the narrow alleyway. Emile followed silently, and followed Hubert’s signal to hook a ladder down from the fire escape overhead.

  
  


Hubert held his breath, waiting for any reaction from the metallic scraping. As far as he knew, every inhabitant in this building was a beast. He knew that they had to be aware of his presence, but the question was how prepared they were.

  
  


When nothing revealed itself, Hubert gave Emile the okay to break off. As Emile went around the bend to dip through the front entrance, Hubert climbed the fire escape and tested the latches of the windows on the way up. The pale sky reflected in the windows of the upper floors, dawn sun casting a white backlight on the dense, humidity-laden clouds. Though the ground around the building was still cast in shadow, it was a safe assumption that many of the inhabitants had retired.

  
  


Hubert hitched open the highest window he could reach and slipped inside swiftly. Instantly, the scent of decay his his nostrils. Filthy beings.

  
  


Kicking aside a sheath of molted scales, Hubert hugged the dusty wall and sidled into the hall. Somehow, the state of disrepair on the interior implied a long-term abandonment, though that didn’t line up with Hubert’s knowledge. He was confident that it was a vampire den, but was it the right one?

  
  


A door creaked ahead of Hubert, and before the beast could even emerge, Hubert had stuffed a fistful of irritants down its throat, a concoction of oak sawdust, silver shavings, garlic powder, and other allergens. The tears that flowed from the beast’s eyes were tinged a sickly brown, leaving it blinded and wheezing helplessly.

  
  


In a swift motion, Hubert pulled the thing by its stained tank top and forced its torso onto a stake, clapping a hand between its shoulder blades to force it all the way down. The body fell as gently as Hubert could manage it to, bouncing off of the bare floorboards enough to make a grisly sound. Hearing a stirring down the hall, Hubert ducked into the room that the beast had come from and situated himself behind a pantry, eyes just able to see the doorway. Through the threshold, he caught a glimpse of gray skin and a whipping tail. He prepared himself for a brutal fight, and considered prepping his bow so that he could keep his distance. But, the beast shed its monstrous form when it reached the corpse, discarding a heap of scales and rising from them into a lanky, scruffy humanoid.

  
  


Hubert sized up the being as it poked its head into the apartment that he camped in, so tall that it needed to duck to get through the door. These long, slim types were always especially difficult to stake properly. Fortunately, it seemed too high up in the clouds to notice its surroundings much. Hubert snapped a hawthorn twig off of one of his wreaths and whipped it across the kitchen so that it clattered in the metal sink.

  
  


The beast whipped around at the sound, and, like mindless livestock, puttered in its direction. When it rounded the counter, turning its back to Hubert’s hiding spot, Hubert launched himself onto its towering shoulders and drew a razor wire around its neck.

  
  


It struggled, clawed at Hubert’s wire, but he kept a firm grip on the handholds and wrenched the cord as hard as he could manage without throwing out his back  as he struggled to topple the towering beast. Though the wire struggled to work all the way through the bone, when Hubert ripped the beast’s neck down towards the floor, he felt a satisfying snap as the spine gave in.

  
  


Swiping the sprayed blood from his face and discarding the gummed-up wire, Hubert swung back out into the hallway. He wondered what purpose there was in filling this complex with such weak-minded vampires; it would have been significantly less suspicious if the building were simply abandoned. Did the previous inhabitants truly think that these small-fry would stand a chance against him? If he wasn’t in such a hurry to locate the damned girl, he could very well have cased the place properly and wiped it entirely on his own.

  
  


Hubert made quick work of covering the rest of the floor. Many apartments were empty, gutted, with only a couple containing more than a few pieces of furniture. Satisfied with his sweep of the floor, having only had to stake one dozing vampire in its bed, Hubert creaked his way down the stairs. He kept his guard up, eyes on the yawning gaps between each step, and, surely enough, when he tested one of the wooden slats, a pale hand emerged, swiping for his ankle.

  
  


A shrill yelp came from below the stairs as Hubert punched a long, silver pin into the hand, driving it as best he could into the wood. When he felt the pin hit wood, however, the old step merely splintered and the hand retracted, bringing a chunk of wood with it. Though Hubert expected a retaliation,  the creature merely fled, a flash of dark disappearing down the hall. Hubert felt the loops in his belt where his remaining silver pins sat with a frown. Those were expensive to replace.

  
  


Hubert made a guess at which door the pinned assailant had ducked into and kicked aside one that was left ajar. Though fully furnished, this apartment reeked especially of rot and filth. Hubert stalked carefully inside, but a clatter outside kicked him to move for cover.

  
  


When he tucked himself under a coffee table, he bumped something that startled him for a moment before he noticed its stillness. Stashed under the couch was a slashed, half-consumed corpse, whose hand stuck out into the space under the table. Some tenant, hiding his leftover food to rot under the furniture.

  
  


Judging by the bloat on the fingers, Hubert had stumbled on a prime opportunity. Checking his back periodically, he fumbled in his supplies for an empty syringe. When he stabbed into the area where the excess blood had settled, he got almost a full vial of thick, red fluid. How sloppy of the best to have left so much. Such would be its downfall.

  
  


When the wandering beast came into the living room, Hubert was ready. As soon as its ankles were within reach of his hiding spot, he sunk the syringe into the meat of its calf, pushing through the resistant material of its denim pants.

  
  


It kicked, thumping Hubert’s head against the bottom of the table, but Hubert kept his grip on the syringe so that he could rip it back out. It was still half-full—very valuable while it was still good. Hubert rolled out from under the table and bobbed away from the frantic, grasping hands of the stuck beast. Already, the swipes were slowing as the bacteria in the blood reactivated the decomposition that the vampirism had halted.

  
  


“What… what did you _do?_ ” slurred the vampire, fangs retracting as it steadied itself on the couch. Sunken eyes grew deeper. Hair fell out in clumps, revealing a peculiar set of pointed ears.

  
  


“You must clean up after yourself better,” said Hubert, hopping away from a slow attack and perching on top of the coffee table. “You’ve left dead man’s blood out for just anyone to get to.”

  
  


Though the beast tried to form words in response, it couldn’t finish. With a heavy thunk, it collapsed, knocking its head on the table on the way down. Perfect. Hubert didn’t get nearly enough chances to poison the bastards, given the stick, time-sensitive nature of retrieving the right kind of blood.

  
  


A distant thud came from below. Emile was making progress. Hubert would look inefficient if he didn’t meet him halfway. Spurred by his compatriot’s activity and the still-rising sun, Hubert scoped out the rest of the floor. Was it truly empty? The signs of any presence were old, cleared out. No, there still had to be at least one.

  
  


Hubert investigated the apartment closest to the stairs more thoroughly. Among the clutter, a postcard stood out, addressed vaguely to “the family in charge of this residence.” The postcard was from a national park on the other side of the state, and the content written on the back was almost complete and utter gibberish. Something about a gift, and about keeping in touch for the future. The language and the phrasing piqued Hubert’s curiosity and reminded him of a small, cult-like group of vampires he’d researched some time ago. As he stashed the postcard in his pocket, a sound caught Hubert’s attention. Scrabbling from the bedroom down the hall, which had a trail of cast-aside wood slivers leading to it.

  
  


He knew this one would be desperate after being wounded. Sliding back into the living room, Hubert produced a hawthorn wreath and rolled his glove up just enough to get a thorn into his hand, reopening the wound that Ferdinand had patched up. It occurred to him, as he coated the twigs in his blood, that he was far too excited by the thought of Ferdinand nursing his hand once more. Sickening.

  
  


Hubert stashed the pin below the couch and tucked himself into a hiding spot, fingers tingling with anticipation for the kill and agitation at his still-rebelling mental state. When the door down the hall opened, Hubert held his breath.

  
  


The creature crossed over curiously and dug under the sofa like a starving vermin, long spine arched to the ceiling. If it wasn’t the image of a feral beast searching for a hit of blood, Hubert would almost be reminded of a human desperate to find a lost remote control.

  
  


Hubert cautiously emerged from behind the focused creature, watching its arm closely. When it pulled out from the couch, a gleam of silver caught the faint light. His pin was still in its hand. Hubert moved in and stomped on it, properly driving it into the floor this time. The beast yowled and twisted to look up at Hubert with pleading eyes. Shame for its begging that the blackish tears that beaded at its lids made it look so ugly.

  
  


Hubert dug the pin further in with his foot, nostrils flaring. “Hungry, aren’t you?” He ignored its whimpering as he readied a stake against its ribs. He was ready to finish the job, but something about its pathetic expression was pissing him off. “Where do you get off, living only to feed?” He took his foot from the pin and ground down on the beast’s wrist. “Have you any function above your base instincts?”

  
  


“Please, I--” the beast cut off when Hubert snapped its arm.

  
  


“You have _no_ right to speak with that tongue,” Hubert hissed. “If you live like a beast, feeding and _taking_ whatever you want, you will _die_ like a beast.”

  
  


The stake sunk all the way into the floorboards. Hubert struggled to pull it and his silver pin back out, panting with exertion and rage. “Disgusting,” he said under his breath as he wiped the black, sludgy blood from his tools. His hand tingled where he had pierced it, and his head throbbed where it had been bumped. Easy enough injuries to hide. There would be no need for another fiasco in his office with Ferdinand, and he would be able to stop thinking about such a possibility. He knew that the more he imagined such a thing, the closer he would get to wanting it.

  
  


Hubert let out a breath and savored the moment of stillness. But, that stillness wasn’t complete. A rustling was audible down the hall, back in the bedroom. He investigated, stake held at the ready, and found that the sound was the clattering of _something_ inside of a huge ash wardrobe, pushing against doors that were held shut with a broom threaded through the handles. A prisoner?

  
  


The thing that flopped out onto the floorboards was most certainly not something in need to rescue. Hubert stepped clear of the still-thickening sludge that seeped from the wounds on its neck and wrists. It was a snack that the beast had grown bored of and turned. Cruel, pitiable. As it scrambled, gasping on the floor, likely only a few hours into its undead existence, Hubert gave a sigh. He pressed his stake into its back and pounded it firmly through. The final breath that heaved out almost sounded like a thanks to Hubert for ending such a traumatic existence. It did resemble something closer to a human in Hubert’s eyes than the long-lived vampires, cold, lofty, thinking themselves above death.

  
  


He wondered briefly if he would see Lysithea turn into something similar eventually. How regrettable it would be to have to eliminate Edelgard’s beloved project, but to do so would surely be a mercy, should her condition regress. It would be clean and painless; he already respected her disdain for a long life with no purpose.

  
  


Hubert was thrust from his musing when a ruckus downstairs got his attention. Emile was growing ever closer while Hubert was sitting around and spacing out. Giving one last pitying look to the body, he spun and departed from the floor.

  
  


The steps creaked rhythmically as Hubert trotted down, anticipation making his movements swift and purposeful. He craned his neck around the banister to see the hallway downstairs filled by a stone-skinned mass, its back to him. There were stubs present on its shoulder blades that indicated the potential growth of leathery wings, should the thing be left to live for a few more decades.

  
  


Just past the hulking shoulders, Hubert caught sight of Emile, shuffling back as he dodged claw swipes from the beast. Hubert warily watched the black and green head of Emile, wondering if he could get his attention without alerting the beast. He didn’t want to lose the element of surprise. He would have to be patient. Carefully, silently, he unfolded his bow and nocked a silver arrow.

  
  


Emile, splattered with viscera, swung at the beast with a heavy arc of his sickle. The weapon stuck halfway into the thick neck of the monster and stayed there as the beast pulled itself away from Emile and swept a claw under his legs, toppling him. Emile was back on his feet in barely a second, and clamored up the beast like a squirrel on a tree to get his sickle back. He let himself fall from the beast and landed solidly on the floorboards and took another swing with his dominant hand.

  
  


“Emile,” Hubert called suddenly, unable to see past the work he’d put into closing Emile’s previous injury. “Other damn arm! I am not having you open your stitches now!”

  
  


Sunken, slitted eyes turned to him over the banister. Shit. In a flash of fangs, Hubert’s sleeve was torn asunder, his arm underneath only just escaping from the serrated teeth. A claw hooked into the hole in his clothes and yanked Hubert down, sending him tumbling across the stairs. Hubert heard a nasty _crunch_ when he landed at the bottom of the steps, and was relieved to find that it was his weight snapping the joints of his collapsible bow as opposed to his bones.

  
  


Dazed, Hubert could only watch as his body was lifted off of the floor, creature sliding him up along the wall with a powerful claw. The beast huffed cold air from its snout, maw warped into something resembling a grin. The fabric of his shirt bunched at his collarbone as the beast held him in place, its sickly gray musculature rippling as it sized up Hubert, claw pressed to his throat.

  
  


In the distance, Emile called out. The beast’s enormous ears swiveled at the sound, but it didn’t turn its head. Hubert pawed in his pockets for something, anything to fight back with. When he brandished his silver survival knife, however, it glanced off of the rock-solid scales. For a moment, the beast seemed amused by his attempt, before its face warped suddenly into a pained grimace. It whirled its head around, and Hubert followed its gaze to see Emile at its rear, having flayed a chunk of flesh from its flank, leaving a section of black and red muscle exposed. The beast’s grip on Hubert faltered when Emile produced a vial of holy water and crushed it in his hand, letting the liquid dribble onto its festering wound.

  
  


In its recoil from the pain, the creature all but whipped Hubert against the wall, knocking the wind and a few flecks of blood from him. As he slid back to the floor, head swimming, he tried to stir himself enough to do something about the assault on Emile that was beginning to unfold in front of him. He reached for his bow, but remembered with a wince that it was in pieces. What could he do? Would the blood work? Could he even get a syringe in? In a last-ditch effort, Hubert launched himself desperately onto the beast’s shoulders and held onto the vestigial wings.

  
  


He slid right off of the creature, bringing fistfuls of scales with him as the beast’s skin was shed. Beams of the morning sun snuck through the windows and bounced off of the newly revealed humanoid skin beneath Hubert. He was left kneeling on a creature that very much resembled a man, trembling and vulnerable. It pleaded, cried out, but Hubert wasn’t going to waste such an opportunity. His stake sunk in, swift and sure. How gracious of the sun to allow him and Emile to live today.

  
  


Hubert crawled to the remnants of his bow and gathered it in his lap. It was well beyond saving. “Emile, how soon can you replace this?”

  
  


“About half a week,” said Emile, pulling Hubert up to his feet by his collar. “Will that do?”

  
  


Hubert sighed, winced at his bruises. “I will have to come up with an excuse for Ferdinand and Edelgard.”

  
  


“I will make it two days, then.”

  
  


“Good.” Hubert took in a breath to steady himself, getting an unpleasant noseful of sweat before he pushed himself off of Emile’s support. “How are your injuries?”

  
  


“Better than yours.”

  
  


Hubert shrugged off Emile’s offered hand. “I will be fine.”

* * *

Hubert stared at the file he’d pinched from Ferdinand’s office, hoping in vain that his glazed-over eyes would find a new lead among the information he’d already picked clean. After the trouble he’d gone to to get it, he was disappointed to find how bare bones it really was. Having followed the home address to its conclusion this morning, there was truly nothing left worth investigating in here. And all he’d gotten from his outing, aside from a smattering of nasty bruises and scrapes on his ribs and back, was a loose lead that he would never be able to find an excuse to follow up. There would simply not be enough time in his life for him to make an entire trip out of town without being noticed and questioned. And he wasn’t keen on getting Ferdinand and Edelgard involved in his investigation. He would be happiest if he could take care of this issue on his own and relay the results to Ferdinand after the fact.

  
  


Hubert prodded experimentally at the tender spots along his side as he considered his options before being startled by a light knock on the door frame. Automatically, he slapped the file shut, but he relaxed somewhat when he saw his office-mate in the doorway. “Dorothea.” Hubert ribbed his tired eyes and checked the clock. It was well past five. “Do you need something? I don’t mind locking up for you if you’re yearning to head home.”

  
  


“No, no, I have actual work to do, still.” She sauntered into the office, casting off her blazer and sitting atop her desk. “So, not with the cabal today?”

  
  


“I fear I cannot match their energy,” Hubert explained, resting his head in his hand.

  
  


“Ah. Well, I didn’t think Edelgard was capable of leaving without you in tow,” she mused. “Figured you would emerge after all of the dreadful _socializing_ was over with. I wasn’t the only one, either.”

  
  


Hubert sighed. “You know I loathe to hear you lead like that. Either explain fully or do not bring it up.”

  
  


Dorothea leaned forward conspiratorially,  swinging her legs and raising her eyebrows with the same energy that she would have brought it he’d asked her for the hottest gossip. “Ferdinand, sweet thing, was constantly asking about you. All puppy-dog eyes and everything.”

  
  


“Was he now,” Hubert forced flatness into his voice and focused his eyes on an especially interesting stack of sticky notes on his desk.

  
  


“Oh, he wanted to see you so bad,” Dorothea chirped. “Guy has had his whole life given right to him, I don’t think he knows how to handle wanting something he can’t just  _take_ .”

  
  


The clip of Hubert’s pen snapped off. He hadn’t even realized he’d been fiddling with it. “Well, if that is what you’re getting from him, I will not rob you of your fun.”

  
  


“Yes, of course.” Dorothea snickered. “ _My_ fun. I suppose neither of you will get anything out of it. I swear, the boy is so utterly—oh, hey! Speak of the devil.”

  
  


The rest of the pen snapped this time. When had his fingers become so strong? Hubert tried hard to keep his vision tunneled on the spring that rolled across his desk. Surely, if he stayed still, he would go unnoticed.

  
  


“Evening, Dorothea. Hubert.” Ferdinand’s voice came from the doorway, but Hubert was still ensnared in the fate of that little spring.

  
  


Dorothea whistled. “Lookin’ sharp, there, Manning. Got some sweating to do?”

  
  


Of course, that would pull Hubert’s horrible, rebellious gaze. For the first time, he got to feast on the sight of Ferdinand dressed _down_. Looking almost like a normal gym-goer, he beared a t-shirt, _shorts_ , and a messy bun. He even had a faint sheen, no a glow, on his skin, as if he’d already been working out.

  
  


“Do you like it?” Ferdinand was directing his words at Dorothea, but he had the gall to shoot a glance Hubert’s way. Smug bastard. “Hubert said my training clothes were inappropriate, so, you know. Just a few cheap things. Shirt only ran me, say, sixty, seventy dollars?”

  
  


Dorothea snorted openly. Though Hubert would normally do so, as well, he was far too focused on _not staring_ , leaving him no brain power left over for vitriol. He was searching desperately for the reason that such casual dress felt so… special.

  
  


“Well, how fun,” hooted Dorothea. “What brings you up here, Ferdie?” Hubert could feel her pointed look, but he willed himself to ignore it.

  
  


Hubert’s view of his desk was filled rather suddenly when Ferdinand plopped his workout bag on it. “I am here to grab my training partner, of course,” said Ferdinand proudly, his eyes glimmering at Hubert. Shit, he was looking again. “I have waited up for far too long, Hubert. Let’s go.”

  
  


“Well.” Hubert ducked his head, blocking his eyes with his hair. “I am actually quite busy, so we will have to rain ch--”

  
  


“I can finish up your work, if you want.” Dorothea shot him a smug look from her perch. “I know how much this matters to you both.”

  
  


Hubert looked at her, then at Ferdinand, then back at her. His first instinct was to fight this, but something in him couldn’t turn the offer down. “Thank you, Dorothea.” She seemed just as surprised by his words as he was. He gave her a shrug as he left the office at Ferdinand’s heels. His head spun as he quietly nodded along to Ferdinand’s small-talk on the drive over.

  
  


“I already got all stretched and warmed up, so you’re well behind,” called Ferdinand when they arrived at the hideout, trotting across the gravel pit. His curly updo bounced in the afternoon light, pairing with his boundless energy to make him appear not unlike a peppy cheerleader. Though, he’d yet to make Hubert feel like cheering yet.

  
  


Hubert made a show of stretching his arms so that Ferdinand wouldn’t hound him over it, but his limbs creaked rather miserably when he tried to coax them to loosen. Ideally, in this state, he would just let Ferdinand work himself tired while he just… supervised his progress. Nothing too intensive.

  
  


Ferdinand lingered just in the corner of Hubert’s eye, bouncing with kinetic energy. “So,” he hummed as Hubert tried and failed to crack his neck. “Are you going to change, or…?”

  
  


“I am quite fine with this,” Hubert huffed. The thick air was already pushing down quite harshly on his work clothes, but he wasn’t about to admit to that. “Though, I am impressed by your commitment…” Hubert trailed off suddenly. “Ferdinand, your shirt.”

  
  


Ferdinand pulled taut the front of the tee, which had a suggestive red _bite me_ print on its front. “I thought it was rather funny,” he said with a grin.

  
  


“Yes, well, it is at least practical.” Hubert cleared his throat. He wondered if it was Ferdinand’s intention to bear such a shameless invitation to _him_. Surely, it wasn’t directed as such. “Why don’t you go and--”

  
  


“Grab the targets? Gladly.” Ferdinand was just heaping on the perkiness today.

  
  


Before Ferdinand could prance off, however, Hubert had a dreadful realization. “Wait.” He shut his eyes and cursed his distracted mind for leaving behind the fact of his broken bow. “We aren’t… using the bow today.”

  
  


“Why not?” Ferdinand cocked his head.

  
  


Already somewhat warm under the collar, Hubert struggled to come up with a good lie as quickly as he usually could. “We… need to work on your close quarters combat.”

  
  


Ferdinand clapped his hands together, and Hubert half expected him to start sounding off on some kind of chant. “So, we are doing hand-to-hand?”

  
  


“No, no, most certainly not.” Hubert’s pulse soared at the thought nearly as much as his bones ached. “It will be… asymmetrical. You wanted to show off your fencing skills, yes?” Hubert snagged a wooden training sword from the rack and thrust it into Ferdinand’s hands.

  
  


Somehow, Ferdinand was even more delighted by this. “Truly? Oh, thank you, though, it isn’t quite the same skill as fencing…”

  
  


“You will figure it out,” Hubert said wearily. If he could just hurry this up, tire Ferdinand out, he could go home and give his body some _rest_.

  
  


After ensuring that Ferdinand’s grip and stance weren’t completely inappropriate, Hubert made space and stood on the balls of his feet. Already, his bruises were objecting, but he would not hear them now. If Ferdinand wanted training, he would get training. Until he was on the ground, pleading for it to stop.

  
  


“Behave as if this were a real life-or-death encounter, bar actually _hitting_ me with that thing.” Hubert took the end of the sword and directed it at his neck demonstratively. “You will want to get in a position to hack off my head. Understood?”

  
  


Ferdinand nodded, focused intently. “Okay. Then, what are _you_ doing?”

  
  


“I am the vampire in this encounter, no? I am sure you can figure it out.” Hubert settled back into his ready stance. “Use your imagination.”

  
  


Ferdinand gawked, looked down at his shirt. By the time that Ferdinand’s cheeks were the same scarlet as the setting sun, Hubert realized just how unfortunate that slip had been. Not wishing to linger on that thought, he lunged at Ferdinand to force the sparring to begin.

  
  


After initiating and being pushed back with the sword, Hubert slipped into his comfort zone and focused on dodging. He could easily see the wide, overconfident swings of Ferdinand’s sword, and weaving around it was child’s play. Perhaps he wasn’t behaving especially like his role in this, but his body simply wouldn’t permit him to be anything but defensive. Thankfully, Ferdinand seemed to pay no mind to it was he swung over and over again, hardly slowing.

  
  


Hubert was starting to grow tired. Ferdinand’s pure persistence was wearing him down faster than he expected. He would have to shake things up to get a breather. Waiting for one of the numerous openings, Hubert slipped in and put a gloved hand to Ferdinand’s neck. “There,” he said, pulling back as quickly as he’d gone in. “You must remember that, having no weapons but their fangs, the beasts will always be faster than you. Be prudent with your attacks.”

  
  


“That wasn’t a win,” Ferdinand puffed, wiping sweat from his brow. “You had gotten your hand on my neck, not your teeth. I still had a chance.”

  
  


“Ferdinand. I am not going to _bite you_.”

  
  


“Nor will I put this in your neck,” Ferdinand said, brandishing the training sword. “But I still expect you to earn your points, just like me.”

  
  


Hubert chuckled, despite himself. Though his muscles groaned, the aches seemed to fall into the background as he cast off his jacket and settled back into position. He could leave it to Ferdinand to lead him into being motivated; maybe he would be willing to give a little energy for the cheerleader.

  
  


“Okay. I shall earn my attacks. Let’s go.”

  
  


The atmosphere shifted. Just as Hubert left behind his defensive stance to seek out chances to attack, so too did he feel less hung up about the situation as a whole. The back-and-forth dance as Ferdinand swung, left himself open, dodged Hubert’s grab, and over again, felt so natural.

  
  


“ One for me,” Hubert puffed when he snuck in over Ferdinand’s shoulder. He mimed a bite when Ferdinand started to complain. That floral smell that always gathered around him had started to mingle with the musk of exertion that Hubert wished he could call gross. Instead, the air that he took in when he got his face so close made him hesitate, his stiff limbs loosening into something more like jelly.

  
  


Another round of combat whirled past far too quickly. Hubert worried that he would lose his ability to keep up as his injuries piped up again. Between that and the jolt of nerves from the round before, his body was noticeably slower this time. Despite everything, he did manage to get the win out of this round.

  
  


“Blast,” Ferdinand hissed when Hubert reached his most vulnerable neck once more. When Hubert saw the movement of Ferdinand’s neck from his speaking, he realized how close he’d gotten to actual contact in that moment.  How enticing that crook of his neck had looked… perhaps now Hubert was growing too  _in_ character. “Pardon,” said Ferdinand. “I do not mean to get frustrated, but, ah! How do you do it?”

  
  


Hubert made sure to catch his breath fully before he initiated another round. He spoke as he dodged: “Your form is passable, but you do not think.”

  
  


“Hey!” Ferdinand swept Hubert’s hand away with a graceful parry.

  
  


“It is true,” Hubert panted between steps. “You are no better than a beast when you act only on instinct.” He leaned back to dodge a lunge and crossed the gap, fingers on Ferdinand’s neck. “Sometimes,” he murmured, relaxing as he grew content with his point. “The thing you wish to do, no matter how it screams at you, is the wrong move. We, er,  _you_ are too good to fall for the most obvious, most tempting openings.” Though he tried to fill his lungs, to feed his agonizing muscles, every mouthful of air he got was just a hot mess of perfume and pheromones. He was growing lightheaded fast.

  
  


Hubert gasped when his legs gave out from under him, Ferdinand twisting the dynamic in an instant. Hubert landed flat on his back, and wood pressed to his throat. A cascade of orange waves that had come loose from their bindings surrounded his and Ferdinand’s faces. “You hadn’t bitten me,” Ferdinand breathed. The enormous grin on his face left Hubert stunned nearly as much as the pressure of Ferdinand’s body on his did. He’d been bested by his cheerleader. That alone deserved a standing ovation.

  
  


Shit, no. There was a better term for  _that_ , and Ferdinand would most certainly notice if the two of them stayed like this. “Alright, I get it,” Hubert hissed. “Let me--”

  
  


“Why are you so scared to go in when you have a chance?” Ferdinand wasn’t done gloating, of course. Hubert wanted to struggle, but his predicament demanded that he remain as still as possible. “I guess I was wrong; you would make a dreadful vampire.”

  
  


Hubert curled his lip and grabbed a fistful of scarlet hair. It was soft; he didn’t remember when his gloves had come off. “Bastard, if you want a  _bite_ so bad--” When Hubert tried to rise to reach Ferdinand’s smug face, the injuries on his back screamed out from where they’d hit the gravel, blood flowing back to his nerves all at once, sending him back to the ground with a cry of pain.

  
  


Through the haze of his spinning head, Hubert could just make out Ferdinand’s concerned expression. He wondered just what he’d thought he was doing then. Maybe he was better off suffering like this than what he was about to force on Ferdinand. No better than a beast he was.

  
  


“Hubert?” The wood of the training sword disappeared, and Hubert vaguely heard the clatter of it skipping across the gravel. The worry on Ferdinand’s face warped into a wince as a wave of pain made Hubert pull hard on the hair he had in his hand. “Hubert, let go—ah!”  He untangled Hubert’s fingers and held his hand to his chest, instead. Didn’t he know how much worse, how much warmer, that was? “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  
  


Ferdinand’s words were fading into noise. Hubert muttered, again and again, “I’m fine, don’t worry,” as Ferdinand got up off of him and propped his head on some balled fabric. Maybe his jacket? Even if Hubert may have been capable of holding onto his consciousness, he preferred not to do so. At some point, the golden light of the sunset changed to the cool, white ceiling of his office in the hideout. He was fine with that. Ferdinand had started to poke around his injuries, his frantic hands turning up his sleeves and shirt collar. He was  _not_ fine with that.

  
  


“Ferdinand,” Hubert groaned, rolling miserably on his cold work table. “Ferdinand, please, I am  _fine_ .”

  
  


Ferdinand’s feckless prodding felt almost as bad as the bruises. “Surely you don’t think I’ll actually believe that,” snapped Ferdinand, trying to get past Hubert’s fierce defending of the buttons on his shirt. “Now, if you’ll tell me what the problem is, this could stop.” He pushed Hubert down against the table, and his face slackened at Hubert’s yelp. “Damn it, I’m sorry. It’s your back…”

  
  


His attempts to disrobe Hubert returned twofold, and Hubert was growing too tired to fight back. “Do not, Ferdinand, this is unacceptable…” he trailed off tensely when he realized that this wrestling with his shirt was doing nothing to help him with the other problems at hand.

  
  


Ferdinand huffed and continued to pry at the buttons. “If you are concerned about modesty, I have already seen plenty through your sweaty shirt. Just, ugh.” He spread the fabric out on the table and wriggled it off of Hubert’s arms, exposing his skin to the cold air. He paused halfway through tossing the shirt aside, as if only just realizing what this entailed.  He blushed, looked pointedly away, and took a moment to fold Hubert’s shirt as he continued: “I just need to know what’s  _wrong_ . Goodness, it isn’t as if I’m seeing you  _naked_ .”

  
  


Hubert squirmed and made a pathetic effort to cover himself up, his body hair standing on end. Did Ferdinand not realize that this was practically just as bad? Gloves, shirt, pants,  _any_ article of clothing that created a barrier was absolutely imperative to keeping Hubert’s composure. It wasn’t as though Ferdinand couldn’t guess what was underneath at this point; it was that lascivious  _contact_ that he so dreaded. Each second of skin against skin made the ache in Hubert’s pelvis grow worse, more demanding than his injuries. There was no way Ferdinand hadn’t noticed  _that_ at this point.

  
  


Ferdinand rolled Hubert over, and, with a groan, Hubert acquiesced. The bastard simply wouldn’t allow him to be hurt in peace. Not that he was even hurt that bad, or was aware of anything other than the new pressure from his lying on his stomach.

  
  


“Hubert, my god.” A hand, gentle, at the small of his back made Hubert jump. “What  _happened_ to you?”

  
  


Hubert winced at the anguish in Ferdinand’s voice. When Hubert had asked Emile how it looked, he’d said it was little more than a few surface-level scrapes and dings. “It is nothing,” Hubert muttered. “I… fell down the stairs.”

  
  


A chilly surface hit Hubert’s back. Ferdinand was wiping down the area with a damp rag, and Hubert found himself tensely hoping that the coolness would force his blood to retreat from his extremities. Was it too much to ask for a little numbness?

  
  


“Hubert, you know I want the truth. What use is there lying about this?”

  
  


Hubert hissed as the stinging of alcohol found some of his newly opened scratches. Ferdinand used a free hand to rub his shoulder in what was likely an attempt to relax him. That, and the faint tickling of his hair across shoulder blades as he leaned forward, drove Hubert absolutely batty. He didn’t know that wanting could  _hurt_ so. That gave him all the more reason to chase it off.

  
  


“Hubert,” said Ferdinand, awakening Hubert from his thoughts. “Tell me what happened. This can’t have been me just now.” His voice was soft. Too soft. Sickeningly sweet.

  
  


“I was in a fight,” Hubert said, caving to Ferdinand’s earnest concern. In the whirling haze of pain and desire, Hubert could almost believe that Ferdinand cared for him.

  
  


“With a person, or…?” When Ferdinand pulled away to refresh his supplies, Hubert savored the moment of reprieve. “Hubert, were you fighting vampires on your own?”

  
  


Hubert rested his forehead on his arms and tried to wriggle his hips into something that didn’t make him hurt. “I can handle myself, thank you very much.” The silence that Ferdinand gave made his disappointment palpable. “But. I was with Emile.”

  
  


Ferdinand nodded, and Hubert could tell because that damned hair was brushing against his back again. He couldn’t stop thinking about  _any_ other situation that would put Ferdinand over him in such a position over him, maybe one in which he was helping to relieve the tension between his legs…

  
  


“Why were you getting into things without Edelgard and me?” Ferdinand’s words once more yanked Hubert onto the most unpleasant plane of reality. He felt a twinge of guilt in his gut at his own thoughts. To imagine such things on his own was already so filthy, so unwarranted, but letting such debauchery pass through him while the subject was immediately present was a whole different thing. He was losing his grip on himself, his whole identity as a stalwart guardian and servant to Edelgard. He was certain that she would disapprove of the contents of his mind.

  
  


Hubert balled a fist tight enough to dig his fingernails into his palm; he needed another sensation to focus on. “I was following a lead. And before you ask—the nature of that lead is none of your business.” As if he was ever going to admit to independently leading the search for Ferdinand’s damned girlfriend.

  
  


“Fine.” Ferdinand sighed, and the warmth of his presence left. “Well. I will have to have words with Emile for letting you get so beaten up.”

  
  


“Do not. It is not his fault. Besides.” Hubert attempted to sit up, but Ferdinand’s hand guided him down. He was cleaned, bandaged; what could remain? Surely, Ferdinand wasn’t planning to do anything about… of course not. “B-Besides. It could have been far worse. A raid with no broken bones is generally a success.”

  
  


“ Nothing broken. So all of your ribs are in tact?” Ferdinand was rummaging through his things. Hubert didn’t deign to look. “I was worried about that. Good.”

  
  


“I did break. Um.” Hubert continued to shift awkwardly on the table. “My bow.”

  
  


“I see. Edelgard will surely find out about that soon enough.”

  
  


“Not if you do not speak of it. It will be replaced--” Hubert’s words warped into a yelp, then a whine when Ferdinand’s hands returned to his back, shockingly cold. “What are you  _doing?_ ”

  
  


Ferdinand’s chilly fingertips kneaded into Hubert’s back, setting his nerves aflame. Being handled for treatment was barely manageable, but this  _massaging_ nonsense? It would surely make Hubert spill over. “It is lotion,” Ferdinand explained. “Apologies if it’s cold. You will heal better if you take care of your skin, and it is so dry now, I would hate--”

  
  


“Enough! Ferdinand, stop.” Hubert sat up and forced back Ferdinand’s hands, his breath shallow. “This is. Ugh. I don’t know what you are trying to pull, but I am  _not_ having it.” He gathered his shirt and shrugged it on to cover his flushed torso.

  
  


Ferdinand clasped his hands together and wiped off the beads of lotion still on his palms, making an expression like he was getting ready to cry. “Why?”

  
  


“That is  _not_ for you to know or care about,” Hubert snarled, gesturing to the door. “Out, Ferdinand!”

  
  


“Not until I get an answer.” Ferdinand’s voice cracked. “Is it me? Do you not like me?”

  
  


Hubert furrowed his brow. Though the thought made him hurt, he wondered if allowing Ferdinand to go forward with that assumption would be the safest thing for him. “Y-Yes. I don’t know why you would ever think me capable of liking you. Now get. Out.”

  
  


“ _Fine!_ ” The fury behind the word told Hubert that he could be confident in knowing that their relationship as frienemies at best would never change. Hubert was relieved to be left alone at last.  The silence in his office was insidious, crawling around him as he rather pathetically relieved himself of his frustration. 

  
  


If a declaration of hatred wasn’t a clear-cut solution to his fixation, he didn’t know what could be. If he ignored the guilt in his stomach, and focused only on the act of chasing away his more basal desires, he would surely be able to go forward being completely, utterly indifferent.

  
  



	12. Act 2 Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have almost become normal in Hubert's world, but, with the queer relationship he's beginning to develop with Ferdinand, he has to wonder if normalcy can ever be achieved again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Sorry for the break between chapters; I've been wrestling pretty intensely with school and motivation as of late, not to mention I tried (and failed lmao) to do a fully new project for NaNoWriMo. Needless to say, I'm back in here and y'all can look forward to more content.

“Hubert!”

  
  


“On it.”

  
  


Hubert swung a stake into the beast that Edelgard held down, stepping aside to avoid the splatter of black sewage that fell out of the glorified cadaver. There seemed to be an undending flow of reinforcements coming from the dilapidated, neon-drenched bar. As he dragged the new body onto the growing heap of corpses, Hubert wondered if Emile faced a similar cavalcade out front.

  
  


When he checked on Edelgard, she was making quick work of another beast, ax glinting in the colorful light. She looked up after her hearty swing, and Hubert was put off somewhat when he made eye contact with the dramatic, Mardi Gras style mask that she’d decided to start wearing as a disguise at Ferdinand’s advisement. Hubert had been used to seeing her as a sleek, poised figure in combat, but she’d since turned into a heap of body-obscuring fabric that he simply had to trust held his beloved boss inside. Despite the change in visuals, however, she still whirled her ax with the greatest of ease and ferocity. Though she was far more measured than Emile, she had the potential to be equally terrifying.

  
  


Stoically, Edelgard pointed with her viscera-drenched ax towards an upper balcony, upon which a long-limbed gargoyle perched. Its rear was wriggling with preparation to pounce down. Batting aside a bumbling beast that had slipped past Edelgard, Hubert bellowed up to where Ferdinand was stationed on the roof of the car. “Ferdinand! Think you can get that one?”

  
  


“What the _hell_ is that?” A clatter sounded as Ferdinand dropped an arrow to the ground.

  
  


“One of  _them_ ,” Hubert called. “Shoot now and save your questions for later!”

  
  


Hubert spun and slipped into a combination attack with Edelgard, pulling a beast at her signal and holding it by its leather collar where she could take a good swing at it. Head and body dropped in two different directions, splashing in the shallow puddles that lived in the cracks of the blacktop parking lot. When a cluster of vampires moved from their hideaway as though they planned to surround he and Edelgard, Hubert plotted a method to break their formation, making sure to include the creature on the balcony in his predictions…

  
  


A  _thunk_ came from overhead, followed by a sharp “woo!” from Ferdinand. The fiend had been pinned straight through to the mortar of the wall, caught halfway through its descent. Hubert caught himself looking Ferdinand’s way with a sort of pride and surprise. That certainly hadn’t been something he’d taught him. Had he been practicing on his own? He looked so positively delighted with his shot that it almost brought a smile even to Hubert’s face. Almost.

  
  


“Hubert! Ferdinand! On me!”

  
  


Shit. In the high of that tiny celebration, the beasts had surrounded Edelgard. Shaking himself into alertness, Hubert strung a bolt of razor wire around the neck of a creature that had Edelgard’s ax in its torso.

  
  


With Edelgard helping him with leverage, Hubert severed the beast’s head. An opening formed in the spiral of humanoids that expanded further from a couple well-placed staggering arrows. Edelgard dipped through the gap and whirled around on her way past with a splattering of holy water, which steamed off of their skin with a sickly odor. Hubert paired that with a cloud of irritants from one of his pockets, and the tide was turned quickly to allow the three of them to pick off the inhibited creatures.

  
  


Astonishingly, the deluge of extra vampires had stopped. Through the windows of the bar, a yellow light flickered rhythmically in their direction. “Emile is giving us the all clear,” Hubert said. “I will start cleaning up.” He hoisted a couple of sludge-covered bodies and lobbed them into the nearby dumpster. When he turned to retrieve more, he was faced with Edelgard, mask pulled up to show her stern expression.

  
  


“What had you so scatterbrained back there? That wasn’t like you, Hubert.” She crossed her arms, and Hubert shrunk.

  
  


“I was. Ah.” Hubert’s neck flared hot with shame. “Ferdinand, he did. That.” He pointed to the beast that was still hung on the wall like a trophy. “It—he shouldn’t have distracted me. I apologize.”

  
  


Edelgard put her hands on her hips and sized up the pinned monster. “I  _can_ see how that got your attention. But, what are we going to do with it, now?” As if on command, the creature suddenly lurched awake and started to paw feebly at the arrow in its chest.

  
  


Hubert hummed thoughtfully as he loaded a stray head into the dumpster and took another from Ferdinand, who held it by its hair, arm stretched out as far as he could get it. “This seems like a wonderful opportunity to get information,” Hubert said. “If we’re lucky, the sun will come up before it can get itself down.”

  
  


“ I’m not sure Ferdinand would enjoy staying until morning just to watch a torturing,” Edelgard remarked.

  
  


“Nonsense. He can handle it.” Hubert lifted a particularly heavy body over the dumpster’s lip. “What say you, Ferdinand? If you behave, I may let you pull a few teeth.”

  
  


Ferdinand looked at Hubert as if he were listening, but spoke as if he weren’t: “I am going to go see if Emile needs help.” The words, cold and distant, hit Hubert like a sack of bricks. He’d almost forgotten  how cruelly he’d treated Ferdinand the other night. He found himself already missing the back-and-forth that usually came so easily to the two of them.

  
  


“What did you do to him, Hubert?”

  
  


Hubert sighed and rolled his neck, trying to ease his tension. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, wiping down his hands with a long since ruined handkerchief. “It isn’t like he ever liked me. He likely just has a lot on his plate; you’ve heard as much as I about how much  _work_ he needs to get done over the weekend.”

  
  


Edelgard huffed and looked up when a crackling sound came from the wriggling beast above. “We should do something about this.”

  
  


“I have rope in the car.”  
  
  


“I’ll go--”

  
  


“No, no, I can get it. Wait here.”

  
  


Hubert returned with a pack of his personal supplies slung over his shoulder, ready with a length of rope in hand, only to be faced with the fallen corpse of the beast, beheaded. Edelgard set aside her ax awkwardly. Hubert frowned and recoiled the rope.

  
  


“Apologies,” Edelgard muttered. “He attacked.”

  
  


“No need to apologize,” Hubert said as he loaded the new addition into the dumpster.  He filed tiredly through his pack for a bottle of lighter fluid, passing by a number of his other belongings in the process. He hadn’t organized in too long; his things  had collected into a haphazard pile of evidence and chemicals from his independent work. 

  
  


Ferdinand appeared rather meekly in the doorway to the inside of the bar. Hubert willed himself to pay no mind.

  
  


Edelgard addressed him: “Did Emile not want help?”

  
  


“Er. He did say something along the lines of ‘I must bear the weight of my kills thusly,’ and I assumed it meant that.”

  
  


“Best not to get in the way,” Hubert remarked as he soaked and torched the corpses. “He will take care of his fill. Let’s go.”

  
  


Hubert led the group away from the foul-smelling dumpster fire and started to investigate the dark corners of the bar. Nothing immediately incriminating came out of the shards of the front, but Hubert felt confident in the potential of a locked door that sat deep in a supply closet. The body of the lock slid out with a little persuasion, and the door revealed a set of steps into a basement consisting of a stuffy staying room with cots and meager furnishings. Though it appeared untouched, the lack of dust told Hubert that it had most certainly been in use recently.

  
  


“Ah, here we are,” said Edelgard, poking her head inside. “I  _knew_ this was where vampires went to disappear.”

  
  


“ They are most certainly our guys,” said Hubert.

  
  


“That’s fortunate,” said Ferdinand from the doorway, hesitant to enter fully. “considering that we did  _kill_ all of them.”

  
  


“Need I remind you that they kill just to exist?” Hubert looked down his nose at Ferdinand, who avoided eye contact. “More dead vampires is a gift, regardless of whether they are our particular targets.”

  
  


“It isn’t as though they chose such an existence.”

  
  


“We have discussed this, Ferdinand.” Hubert grabbed his shoulders, and the already pouty expression on his face fell into a despaired one. “When will you learn that reality is far more ugly than what you read in those books of yours? They are not human, they are  _not_ romantic, and they are not deserving of mercy.” He could feel his face flaring with defensive heat. 

  
  


Ferdinand’s face was contorted into a grimace. “I will believe your rhetoric when you start treating the human beings in your life with some compassion.”

  
  


Ouch. Hubert peeled himself away with nothing to say. He put his pain deep in his chest and concerned himself with investigation. As he turned over boxes and peered under cots, he could see in his peripheral that a hushed conversation was unfolding between Edelgard and Ferdinand in the doorway. Suddenly, the bare room was feeling especially small and stuffy.

  
  


Hubert let their voices fade into nothing more than a buzzing. He turned over the corner of a cot and dug out a small notepad, paper crinkled from being stuffed away. Digging a graphite pencil from the depths of his supplies, he spread a light layer of gray across the page to search for imprints. He was focused. He was not eavesdropping. He couldn’t hear a word from Edelgard and Ferdinand.

  
  


“I can be civil,” floated Ferdinand’s voice.

  
  


“Just don’t let this become a problem, alright?”

  
  


“I don’t think Hubert--”

  
  


“I’ve got something,” cut in Hubert from across the room, not wishing to hear anything further. He gave the paper a second pass to make the  words stand out more clearly before pointing them at Edelgard. “ Directions . And I know where to.”

  
  


Edelgard took the pad and squinted. “Are you sure?”

  
  


Hubert nodded. “I would recognize it anywhere. It makes sense—what better place could there be for a vampire looking to lay low? I’d been looking that way anyway, so we could be ready to go this weekend.”

  
  


“We could,” hummed Edelgard. As she thought, Hubert busied himself with searching the boxes in the closet, eager to see if more evidence could be found.

  
  


“May I ask  _where_ this place we’re speaking of is?” Ferdinand asked, his voice making Hubert grit his teeth.

  
  


“It’s a forested region on the West side of the state, just off of 80, along the river,” Edelgard explained. “There has been a lot of activity there from the more… poorly adjusted vampires. Quite dangerous.”

  
  


Ferdinand gave a gasp. “Oh, I know where that is! Funny coincidence, I have a weekend home out there. Very pretty.” A silent pause. “I do appreciate your offer, but no, I have  _so_ much--”

  
  


“Yes, you are  _swamped_ with work this Labor Day,” interrupted Hubert. “We know.” Hubert was incessantly digging for support for his lead; how badly he wanted to push for an outing, for time out roughing it with Edelgard, away from Ferdinand. Things could feel like they were back to normal.

  
  


“There is a good chance that we won’t even go,” said Edelgard coldly, shattering Hubert’s heart. “This… evidence, it’s barely anything. It’s so vague that it could point to _anywhere_ in that area, or it could be from who knows how long ago. For now, it will likely just be something to keep in mind for later.”

  
  


Hubert bit back a frustrated groan. Was it not enough to have an excuse to get away from everything, from  _Ferdinand_ ? Though he turned the room upside down, there was nothing for Hubert to use to cement his idea. He paused in front of the empty closet, peeked into his pack of belongings. He pawed around for the postcard from Flayn’s apartment building. Perhaps, that could be useful… or, there was the cutsey flip phone he’d picked up in the basement of those old folks some time ago. He held the phone in his hand as he considered his options, his consequences.

  
  


“Oh, my god,” exclaimed Ferdinand from just over Hubert’s shoulder. When had he gotten there? “Hubert, that—that’s Flayn’s phone!” He snatched the device from Hubert’s hand before he could dodge the grab.

  
  


Edelgard came to look at the false find. “Flayn’s? What? How?”

  
  


“Hubert, where was this?” For just a moment, Ferdinand’s coldness was somewhere else, and his eyes were hopeful. Hubert would have liked the sight if he didn’t know its reason for being.

  
  


Hubert clenched his jaw. “It was, er, I found it in the closet here. That is hers? You’re sure?”

  
  


“Does this mean she’s out there? At that forest?” Ferdinand swept up the notepad in a breathless movement. “My word, it had been so long, I almost—well, now, now we know!”

  
  


“We don’t necessarily.” Edelgard sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well. If there are signs that point to Flayn, we shouldn’t ignore this lead,” she said, her voice tired. “Ferdinand, would you reconsider our use of your weekend home?”

  
  


“Oh, without a doubt.” Ferdinand cradled the little items as if they were the most precious things on earth. “I will come with; work is not as important as this.”

  
  


“ Very well. We will make the trip early Saturday morning. Can you be ready that soon?”

  
  


“Of course.” Ferdinand approached Hubert and took one of his hands. “This was  _such_ a good find, Hubert. Thank you so much.”

  
  


Hubert stayed put, sitting on the floor, as the others left in a whirlwind. The phone was Flayn’s. Of course it was. There went his weekend, right out from under his nose. And there went Ferdinand, on a second wind in his search for his girlfriend. Hubert wanted to cry.

  
  


* * *

  
  


On one last trip to the hospital before the weekend, Hubert helped Edelgard with unloading boxes of documents for Lysithea, shockingly heavy work for a bedridden woman. Hubert frowned at the stacks as he set the boxes up to be carted into the hospital.

  
  


“Edelgard, you are getting rather… involved in this, are you not?”

  
  


She shrugged and smiled. “Perhaps. Is there something wrong with that?”

  
  


“Not necessarily,” said Hubert quietly, acutely aware of Ferdinand’s presence on the other side of the car. “I do hope that you aren’t getting to attached, however. You don’t know if--”

  
  


“Hubert.” Edelgard glared. “You are in no place right now to talk about growing _too attached_.”

  
  


Her words pierced Hubert. He started to blurt out an objection, but bit his tongue. She was right. He had no right to say such things while he couldn’t control himself.

  
  


Ferdinand swept by, oblivious, in a wisp of floral air that was tinged with the scents of chocolate and sugar. Where Edelgard brought cargo for Lysithea to work on, Ferdinand had his own gifts in the form of a box of donuts for Mercedes, possibly out of some hope that he could buy her friendship. Not that it was an entirely terrible idea; he’d seen a number of petty fight settled on her end with the introduction of truce treats.

  
  


In contrast with his companions, Hubert would be leaving with more than he came with. Upon arriving at the little chapel, he took a pair of suitcases from Mercedes, filled with medical supplies and other useful things like holy water and hawthorn, enough for the weekend. Whether she, being ordained herself, personally blessed the holy water was a secret that Mercedes would never reveal, no matter how much Hubert tried, through her, to figure out what exactly it was that made the stuff work.

  
  


At Ferdinand’s request, he was left to mingle with Mercedes as Hubert and Edelgard made for Lysithea’s room. Though the walk wasn’t long, the silence between them was sticky. Hubert insisted that he carry the hefty file boxes personally, so that they wouldn’t have to wait for the lagging elevator with the cart. By the time they reached their destination, his joints were starting to whine at him over the excess hauling. It was almost satisfying to make himself sore for Edelgard’s sake. It felt like a return to normalcy.

  
  


“ Lysithea, already to work?” Edelgard sauntered in and set herself next to the bed. Lysithea looked up from where she tapped away on a chunky gray laptop and gave Edelgard a smile. Her bedsheets were scattered with documents and books thicker than Ferdinand’s skull.

  
  


“It’s hardly work at all,” Lysithea said. “But,  _this_ .” She accepted the file boxes from Hubert. “This is my real work. This case has been dragging on for so long; I’d hate to let it fall behind now.”

  
  


Edelgard cut in and put a hand atop the lid of a box. “Now, now. You promised I would have some time with you without distractions.” Promised? Hubert hadn’t realized that this was what Edelgard was spending so much time on the phone for.

  
  


“Well.” Lysithea hummed and drummed her fingers on the cardboard. “I will do something not… too distracting. Just some highlighting. Deal?”

  
  


“Lysithea.”

  
  


Lysithea clicked her tongue. “Edelgard, if I am going to be a senator by the time I’m 35, I need to keep on top of things. Surely you, of all people, understand?”

  
  


“This  _is_ quite a lot of work,” Hubert remarked as he scooted the boxes into a place where she could reach them. “Having such a bustling practice at such a young age is impressive.”

  
  


“Yes, well, it was set in stone before I even entered the first grade,” said Lysithea.

  
  


“You are quite brave to continue so stalwartly despite your setback.” Hubert tapped a finger to his chin. “You are use you can handle everything well enough? No excess exhaustion, aches, weariness, fever, sweats?”

  
  


Lysithea sighed. “I suppose I can wait to work until after a physical.”

  
  


“Thank you.”

  
  


Hubert took notes on Lysithea’s blood pressure, reflexes, and outward physical changes. She had seemed to remain relatively stable compared to her initial condition, with the addition of her majorly increased energy. There was a good chance that the venom could be sweated through like an intense virus, should things continue this way. It seemed that her hair would continue to gray prematurely, though, and some other consequences of the aging would show in time.

  
  


As Hubert examined, Edelgard took one of Lysithea’s books and flipped it idly open in her lap. “I am glad to know you’re well enough to work,” she said.

  
  


“As far as I’m concerned,” Lysithea said, holding out her hand for Hubert to check the state of her fingernails, “if I’m not in a coma, I am well enough to work.”

  
  


“Are you afraid of letting down your family? It sounds like this has been the expectation for a long time.”

  
  


“Them, and me.” Lysithea paused to let Hubert listen to her breathing.

  
  


Hubert set aside his notes and noticed a sealed fruit cup on the side table. “What is this,” he asked sternly. “You are eating enough, yes?”

  
  


“It’s the sweetest thing the staff will give me,” Lysithea sighed, folding her arms. “Are you finished?”

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


Edelgard put out a hand and Hubert followed her indication to pass her the cup. She peeled back the lid and made a face. “This is the best they have, hm? You’ll have to remind me not to get sick any time soon. I would just about give up without proper desserts.”

  
  


“You like sweets, too?” Lysithea’s eyes lit up. Hubert wondered if he was the only person on the planet who didn’t revere sugar as some kind of savior.

  
  


“You know what?” Edelgard leaned forward and waggled a finger. “I seem to recall that one of my companions came in here with desserts. Hubert--”

  
  


“I will fetch some treats,” Hubert said coolly. Lysithea looked at him  like , well, like a kid in a candy store. Though  he didn’t look forward to seeking out Ferdinand, he was more than happy to pick up an errand for Edelgard. He was starting to realize that the best possible distraction from his concerns would be to completely envelop himself in work for Edelgard, like he’d done time and again in his youth.

  
  


Hubert braced himself at the door of the chapel, through which he could hear chatter. Just as he expected, all conversation ceased when he showed himself. Mercedes looked straight at him, her expression challenging, while Ferdinand was visibly cagey. He fidgeted vigorously, his long fingers combing his hair as though he would find gold in the waves.

  
  


“What do you need, Hubert?” asked Mercedes. “Are you taking Ferdinand already?” She looked downright thankful.

  
  


Hubert chewed his lip. It was suddenly rather difficult to speak in Ferdinand’s presence, even with a clear goal in mind. “I. No, well.” He cleared his throat. “Do you have any more donuts?”

  
  


“A few.”

  
  


“You want one, Hubert?” Ferdinand looked in his direction, but not at his face. “Hold on. You can’t have… this one.” He reached across the aisle to pull a long curly-q from the box. His expression was almost playful as he stuffed the treat swiftly into his mouth in a defensive maneuver.

  
  


Hubert just shook his head. “Edelgard has discovered that our bedridden acquaintance is another fan of sweet things.”  _Sweet things_ , like the smear of sugar glaze that sat on the curl of Ferdinand’s lip.

  
  


“Who isn’t?” puffed Ferdinand, putting a hand over his full mouth. “Pardon,” he added once he’d swallowed.

  
  


Mercedes chuckled. “Hubert doesn’t.”

  
  


“Ah, I see!  _That’s_ why you’re such a--” Ferdinand cut himself off, biting his lip. His manners were slipping; perhaps Mercedes was getting to him. Hubert had to admit that seeing his guard lower in such a way was quite appealing. Wait.

  
  


Hubert put a hand to his forehead. He wasn’t here to gawk at Ferdinand; he had a task in mind. He reached across Mercedes to the box of fried morsels. “May I?”

  
  


“You may,” said Mercedes. As Hubert selected a pair of donuts, she gave him a grin. “You see how easy it is when you simply ask for what you want?”

  
  


“Why, yes, I—hm.” Hubert paused, brow knitted.  He could see Ferdinand suppressing a chuckle and waving gleefully at Mercedes. “What… are you implying?”

  
  


“Nothing, nothing.” Mercedes fluttered her lashes. “Say, Ferdinand, you’ve met my brother Emile, right? He’s got a big sweet-tooth, as well!”

  
  


Ferdinand snorted so hard that Hubert worried he would need to be moved down the hall to the ICU. “That’s—he is  _your_ brother? My word!”

  
  


Hubert had to shuffle awkwardly by as the pair of them burst into laughter. He wondered how much more of this would have to go on before someone complained about the misbehavior in the chapel. And didn’t Mercedes have a job to do? Surely attending to the tiny chapel wasn’t her only duty.

  
  


“Judging by your reaction, you’ve seen him in action,” said Mercedes.

  
  


“I most certainly have!” Ferdinand’s cheeks were pleasantly rosy. “The difference is so…” he paused and gestured vaguely with his donut. “I never would have guessed.”

  
  


“You will find,” put in Hubert, “the similarities are more than you might expect.”

  
  


Mercedes nodded. “Emile is actually quite the sweetheart.”

  
  


“And she,” Hubert said, dipping his head to her, “is quite the fiend.”

  
  


Ferdinand narrowed his eyes, downed the rest of his donut, leaving a rather bothersome smear of crème filling on his thumb. “I just might see it,” he said. “I will have to take a closer look when I see him next. Where is he today, anyhow?”

  
  


“He is out fetching… er, supplies.” Hubert’s focus was drawn to Ferdinand’s fingers. His eyes followed as Ferdinand noticed the crème, searched for a napkin that wasn’t there, and made the truly heinous decision to  _lick_ it off. “He. Ah. Will most likely not be.” Hubert swallowed, eyes in the pink flash between Ferdinand’s lips, wet enough to catch the low light. Talk about  _misbehavior_ in the chapel—if Mercedes could see his thoughts, she would surely kick him out in an instant. “Hewilllikelynotjoinusforourweekend,” Hubert finished in one shaky breath, leaping in his skin when Ferdinand made eye contact for the first time since he arrived. He gave Hubert a smirk—was he doing this on purpose?

  
  


There may have been something said in Hubert’s wake, but he was rushing too much to care. He hugged close to the air conditioning units along the hall windows on the walk back, hoping that the cool air would assist him in relaxing,  _deflating_ , before returning to the ladies. Would it be at all possible to handle sharing a  _residence_ with Ferdinand for a whole weekend? Surely, this weekend home would be exorbitantly large, large enough for Hubert to put the proper distance in place.

  
  


Conversation was, thankfully, still flowing just fine when Hubert returned to Lysithea’s room. Ah, to be hidden. All the acknowledgment he needed was the thanks he got from Edelgard as he passed off the sweets.

  
  


“Mine is… a little squished,” Lysithea mumbled.

  
  


“An issue with the box,” Hubert lied, subtly finding a moment to remove the gloves that had been soiled by his tension-fueled grip. “Apologies.”

  
  


“Here. You can trade with me,” Edelgard offered, as if Hubert hadn’t very purposefully given her the one he hadn’t crushed.

  
  


Hubert was relieved to be able to slip into the background as Edelgard and Lysithea picked up their discussion without missing a beat. The two had a lot to talk about regarding the pressure of familial expectations, which was something Hubert couldn’t really relate to. Yes, he had been more or less assigned to Edelgard as her second-in-command since he was barely old enough to know what that entailed, but he had been perfectly content with that role. He couldn’t imagine a life beyond being a tool in Edelgard’s pocket, existing without the baggage of any external issues or desires. There was hardly a problem with knowing what was expected of him. Perhaps he just lacked the raw ambition that seemed to bring these women to reach beyond their already lofty plans.

  
  


Soon, at Lysithea’s insistence, talk took a back seat in favor of quiet work. Edelgard was more than enthusiastic about sifting through files or enormous books for the things Lysithea needed, and Hubert was content hanging back and passing things as they were needed. How long it had been since Edelgard had been so full of fresh, new enthusiasm.

  
  


When the colors in the window faded from yellow to orange, Hubert reminded Edelgard of the preparations they still had to make before leaving in the morning. He had grown rather restless with such little to do with himself in the mostly silent room.

  
  


“Ah, yes.” Edelgard stuck the end of a highlighter between her teeth. “Actually, would you be so kind as to get that done on your own tonight?”

  
  


Hubert furrowed his brow. “I could, but… why?” He couldn’t completely hide the disappointment that eked into his voice.

  
  


“I’m going to stick around with Lysithea to help,” she said. “At least until visiting hours are up.”

  
  


A dagger landed in Hubert’s gut. “Oh. In that case, I will make preparations for you, and arrange a car to come, when will it be? Eight?” He wrung his hands. “If you wish, I can call a car for Ferdinand, so that I can stay--”

  
  


“Hubert, I can find a ride, and you don’t need to stay.” Edelgard’s eyes were soft, though her words cut Hubert like fine razor wire. “Don’t worry about it.”

  
  


“Very well.” Don’t worry? His entire  _job_ was to worry about her. Had she forgotten his purpose? Hubert had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep grounded. “In that case, I will take my leave. Good night, Edelgard.”

  
  


“You too, Hubert.” She didn’t even raise her eyes from the law book as she blew him off.

  
  


Hubert left in a whirl of twisting frustration and raw anxiety. He fetched Ferdinand, who lingered alone in the chapel after Mercedes had set off on some work. For a moment, in the silent, private space, Hubert considered a billion things that he’d written off as pure fantasy that could work excellently as methods to anger Edelgard, to force her to give a damn about him. But, when he approached Ferdinand and saw the still-present discomfort that he bore, he stopped himself. He would not grow so reckless.

  
  


“We are leaving,” said Hubert tersely to the fidgeting Ferdinand, who took his firm tone and made the correct decision to say nothing on the drive home. He couldn’t begin to work through his fury as he turned it over and over in his mind, teeth grinding. That Edelgard could put him, put the safety of the community, on a lower rung of priority than some woman and her damned law practice, it drove Hubert mad. It was one thing for her to put her business first from time to time, but this  _case_ that she was assisting with was so utterly meaningless.

  
  


The unspoken rule between the two of them that they always, always would fall back to one another was being strained. If he had done something like that, ignoring a request of hers for some infatuation, he would never hear the end of it. For her to do this, it was like if he were to proposition Ferdinand with… nothing. Nothing. He would  _never_ do anything of the sort, not just to anger Edelgard. Perhaps she could get away with the occasional bending of the rules, but that flexibility would not be afforded to him.

  
  


Ferdinand, who seemed too uncomfortable with Hubert’s furious silence, piped up when Hubert reached his townhouse. “Is it going to be like this all weekend?”

  
  


Hubert looked at the tension in Ferdinand’s knuckles with a frown. “No. I. I apologize.” He sighed, looked Ferdinand in his big, weepy eyes. “I can guarantee I will behave myself appropriately thus forward.”

  
  


“Right, I appreciate it.” He waited for a beat, as if expecting some further discussion. “Well, then, I will see you in the morning.”

  
  


Hubert felt hopelessly weary as he watched Ferdinand disappear. Some vacation he was gearing up for, spending time with his newly neglectful boss and the man that he wanted to bed so badly that he was damn near sabotaging his own relationship with said boss to do so. That, and there would be some vampire slaughtering, as well. Perhaps that would be enough to redeem it all.


	13. Act 2 Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We arrive at Ferdinand's weekend home in search of vampiric leads. Who knows what sorts of delights we might find out in the woods?

“Here we are! What do you think?”

  
  


“It is big.”

  
  


“Coming from you, if it isn’t an insult, it’s high praise. Thank you, Hubert.”

  
  


“Pardon me,” hissed Hubert. “I wasn’t finished. It is far too big. Would we not be better off spending the weekend in something with fewer enormous windows?”

  
  


The house, closer to a mansion, was actually rather pleasantly modern. The wood and glass was inviting and fit comfortably in the deep woods; Hubert could almost be fond of its desperate imitation of a cozy cabin. Still, the glitz and wealth was visible in the unnecessary embellishments and sheer girth. Overall, it seemed like the architect was only loosely familiar with the concept of _coziness_.

  
  


“You still expect subtlety from Ferdinand? How cute,” said Edelgard, shouldering her bags. When Hubert offered to take them himself, she brushed him off.

  
  


Feeling rather light with just his own meager duffel for the weekend, Hubert occupied himself with the supplies  from the trunk, but those too were taken swiftly from his hands. “I can get these,” said Ferdinand with a far too charming smile. “The housekeepers left us a spare van.” He trotted down the driveway and retrieved a key and garage fob from the brick-encased mailbox. In the garage sat an old white van, flanked on either side by bikes, boats, and other goodies. “This will be useful for hunts, yes? I’d much prefer this to getting my Caddy all muddied. And look at all the space!”

  
  


Hubert poked his head in the back of the van as Ferdinand tucked the bags of weaponry into it, secure but within reach of the front seats. “It will be sufficient,” remarked Hubert. “Ideal, even. Good call, Ferdinand.” He moved to hurriedly add more words when Ferdinand’s expression grew too sunny. “But,” he said, palming the keys from Ferdinand’s ever pliant hand. “The mailbox? Hardly a secure location for such a transfer.”

  
  


Ferdinand huffed. “I don’t know what you mean; this place is safe as can be.”

  
  


“Uh huh. Do I need to remind you that we are here due to its proximity to a known vampire haven?”

  
  


“Well, it isn’t as though they can get in uninvited, is it?” Ferdinand shook his head as he hopped out of the van and clapped the doors shut. “You do worry too much, Hubert.”

  
  


“I’ll have you know,” said Hubert, closing on on Ferdinand until he got that frightened prey expression that Hubert was so fond of. “That that is  _not_ the case with automobiles. Do not leave your damned car keys lying in the open.” Flashed appeared in Hubert’s mind of being sucker-punched by a beast from its camping spot in an unlocked car. Tinted windows still put him off.

  
  


Ferdinand gave a pout and whipped his hair like a most frightening weapon, shaking off Hubert and strutting into the house. “Well, it is fine now, isn’t it,” called Ferdinand over his shoulder.

  
  


Hubert rolled his eyes before heading inside, still uncomfortable with how unencumbered he was.  He was hit right away with an assault of floral potpourri, definitively marking the area as  _Ferdinand’s territory_ , and concealing a subtler, smell underneath that Hubert couldn’t place. His steps, and Ferdinand’s voice, echoed under the vaulted ceiling as Ferdinand swept Hubert up into a miserably high-energy tour, dragging Edelgard in along with when she came in through the foyer. They were enthusiastically directed to the various sitting rooms, halls, and otherwise useless spaces. Ferdinand lingered for far too long on the restrooms, insisting that they both get back to him about how  _amazing_ their showers would surely be with the heated floors. Hubert held his tongue at that.

  
  


In contrast with the overly open floor plan, Hubert found the four walls of his assigned guest room to be rather comforting. Ferdinand had made a point about swearing up and down that he would not be offended should he decide to share a room with Edelgard, but the two of them insisted that they needed their own spaces. There was plenty of room, anyway.

  
  


Ferdinand departed with a suggestion that Hubert take his time unpacking, so that he may properly appreciate the walk-in closet. But, Hubert knew that he would spend the weekend living out of his suitcase, as he always did when he was out of town. It was simple, efficient, and idea, should he need to dip out at a moment’s notice. So, rather than bother making himself at home, Hubert simply shucked his shirt and took some time in his bathroom shedding the uncomfortable grime that came with a long car ride in the dead of morning.

  
  


Getting going first thing had only been somewhat stressful. Ferdinand needed to be called in order to get him out of bed, and Hubert was convinced at the time that Edelgard wouldn’t be there at all when he went to pick her up. But, she had been on the stoop, stoic and wordless. The only thing she’d said during the ride was when she requested that they stop for coffee on the way out of town. Of course. She’d been up late. Still, the chance to get some coffee was almost worth having to hear the condescending way that Ferdinand had said “ _tea, please_ ,” when Hubert was finished ordering the sugary concoction that Edelgard had requested.

  
  


Hubert startled halfway through replacing his shirt when Ferdinand swung the door to his room open with nary a knock.  He noted to himself that he would apparently have to keep it locked at all times in the coming weekend.

  
  


“Looking good,” hummed Ferdinand, a little too genuine. He cleared his throat. “Your injuries, I mean.”

  
  


Right. How could it be anything else? “I am healing, yes. Do you often intrude on your guests, or have you just forgotten who was in this room?”

  
  


“I thought you would only be… unpacking,” muttered Ferdinand. “Anyway, um. Do you always wear your pants all the way up to your nipples?”

  
  


Hubert attempted to glare Ferdinand out of the room, but it only seemed to fuel the fire. The poncy, frustrating, self-obsessed fire.

  
  


“Is that a trendy look, then? I wouldn’t know; I haven’t read this month’s _Stick in the Mud_ _for Men_. The last one was about needing no colors other than black, yes?”

  
  


Hubert lobbed the first thing his hands found in Ferdinand’s direction. Hairs already standing on end against the heavily conditioned air, he only tensed further when he saw his shirt flutter through the air and burst across an unintended target.

  
  


Edelgard, halfway in the door, said nothing. She simply balled the shirt up and tossed it aside while Ferdinand bubbled over with laughter. Hubert burned right up.

  
  


“We are going to meet, downstairs,” said Edelgard matter-of-factly. “Discuss our plan of action. Okay?”

  
  


Hubert buttoned up his shirt with frantic, fumbling hands as he heeled to Edelgard on the staircase. Ferdinand followed at a more relaxed pace, all the while bombarding the two of them with incessant questions about what they thought of this house that they’d barely spent more than twenty minutes in.

  
  


“Might we have a drink to relax a bit?” Ferdinand led the group straight to the kitchen. “I have some exquisite ryes that have been  _begging_ for a chance.”

  
  


The way that Ferdinand positively glowed while playing host would have been endearing if it wasn’t so wildly inappropriate. “Ferdinand, please, we are here on a mission. This is not a party--”

  
  


“Actually, Ferdinand.” Edelgard hopped on a stool at the kitchen island. “If you must open a bottle, pour me some.”

  
  


Hubert gawked at the flagrant day-drinking. Was Edelgard expecting to get nothing done this weekend? “Edelgard, with all due respect--”

  
  


“It’s just one drink, Hubert.”

  
  


Ferdinand chipperly produced a couple of glasses. “We could always hop over to my bar, if you wish.”

  
  


“This is fine.” Edelgard put out a hand behind her. “Hubert, may I have the map?”

  
  


Hubert produced a trifold from his supplies, as well as a dry-erase marker. He could at least pride himself on being prepared. While she started to make some preemptive notes on the map of the forest, Hubert loomed over Ferdinand.

  
  


“Need something?” Ferdinand’s tone was unexpectedly cool.

  
  


“I _need_ you to take things seriously. This is no vacation—what is that?”

  
  


Between the doors of the cabinets, Hubert caught sight of a rustic pouch, entirely out of place from the fanciful packaging that inhabited the space around. Though Ferdinand seemed to pretend not to see it, Hubert reached past and swiped the little canvas sack from over his shoulder. The scent of the bag answered the question of _what,_ but not _why_.

  
  


“Ah, that.” Ferdinand shrunk from Hubert’s prying gaze, his face betraying his embarrassment. “It is something I had my housekeepers pick up. In case, erm, _you_ ever ended up here. You know, for whatever reason.” He swept some hair behind an ear that was flushed bright red, even redder than his face. With such a monopoly on his blood flow, it was tempting to think of what reaction would come from wandering too close to that freckled curve.

  
  


“If you want something other than the rye,” said Ferdinand, “I would be happy to prepare some of this for you.” The contact of his fingers attempting to take the bag from Hubert’s hand was a shocking enough sensation to knock him from his unwelcome wandering.

  
  


“Very well,” said Hubert as smoothly as he could. “That is, if you can stomach it.”

  
  


Ferdinand’s eyebrows rose, and his hands encroached further on the bag, prompting Hubert to release it. “Anything for… well, for a guest in my humble home.”

  
  


“Humble,” came Edelgard’s voice from behind, accompanied by a chuckle.

  
  


Hubert startled. How did Ferdinand manage to make him all but _forget_ about Edelgard so effortlessly? His drain on Hubert’s attention was his most devilish feature, next to that pouty mouth of his.

  
  


Firmly rerouting himself into the task at hand, Hubert sat attentively at the island as Edelgard outlined the plan for the weekend. He attentively routed the regions of the surrounding forest along with Edelgard, all the while only slightly distracted by the scent of freshly ground coffee beans as Ferdinand went about playing host. For some reason, Hubert didn’t feel much like he was doing work. The world of vampires, of blood and violence and holy artifacts of dubious efficacy felt, in a word, distant. There was a barrier around him in the form of steam from the boiling water, wafting past Ferdinand’s fine profile as he poured.

  
  


He kept expecting to have to correct Ferdinand, knowing that he would attempt to treat the coffee as though it were his tea. But, each step, from the boiling to the blooming to the pour-over, was just about exactly how he would have done it. Ferdinand appeared focused on the preparation as though it were an art, his face scrunched into a charming stare.

  
  


“Thank you,” Hubert said earnestly when he received the fresh, steaming cup. The aroma of the brew was exquisite, the brimming pride on Ferdinand’s face was amusing, and, for the first time in as long as he could remember, the tension in the back of his neck was absent. He hadn’t realized that he was allowed to be anything but tightly coiled at all times.

  
  


He found the coil resetting itself when a clatter of claws on hardwood caught his attention. In the doorway to the kitchen reared the drooping face of some kind of old hunting hound. The owner of that unfamiliar scent that Hubert had caught upon entry was this little creature, flopping across the kitchen.

  
  


“What is… it doing here?” said Hubert awkwardly, tucking his feet up under his stool.

  
  


Ferdinand perked up from where he’d been quietly conversing with Edelgard. “Oh! That is Derick. I was wondering where he was.”

  
  


As Ferdinand stooped to tousle the hound’s fur, Hubert frowned. He knew fully well how much animals hated him; the old tabby that Edelgard had grown up with would never let him within twenty feet of it, and he’d been barked away by plenty a mutt on the street before. He felt foolish for letting this catch him off-guard. Of _course_ Ferdinand would have a dog.

  
  


Hubert furrowed his brow at the big, round eyes of the creature and the surrounding gray fur. “He’s… frightened of me,” he remarked, noticing that there was quite the gulf between him and where the dog seemed willing to stand.

  
  


“Nonsense,” said Ferdinand. “He is just old. And Shy.” He tugged on the dog’s collar and led him to the island.

  
  


Edelgard paused from checking her cell phone to give him a pat. “Hey there, fella.” She gave a smile to Ferdinand. “Not as energetic as he used to be, is he?”

  
  


Ferdinand chuckled. “Thankfully. He still plays just fine, though. Don’t you, Derick?” The dog huffed.

  
  


Hubert held himself defensively. He looked to Edelgard for some hint of what to do, but she had returned to sticking her nose in her phone. “I am not sure how to behave myself with animals. They do not like my presence.”

  
  


“Can’t blame them,” jeered Ferdinand. He winced when Hubert glared. “I’m kidding! I’m sure it is all in your head. Just let him sniff you first.”

  
  


Hubert frowned, set down his coffee, and held out a finger. He tensed, waiting for a growl or snap, but none ever came. The only indication that the dog was even sniffing was the slight flaring of his nostrils. It seemed that Derick was… entirely ambivalent towards Hubert’s presence. What a relief.

  
  


Ferdinand guided Hubert’s hand to the dog’s head, where the short fur bristled through his gloves. Though Hubert wasn’t sure what to expect, he found himself rewarded by a wagging tail and a graceless flop to the floor, where said tail whapped rhythmically.

  
  


“See? He likes you plenty.” When Ferdinand spoke, Hubert pulled hastily back into his straightest posture. He hadn’t realized that in stooping to reach the short hound, he’d grown rather close to Ferdinand’s personal space. It was just a little too soon for that proximity. Still, despite his embarrassment, he felt warm in his gut. It was nice to be accepted.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hubert poked his way carefully through the woods beyond the broad yard of Ferdinand’s secondary house. He wondered how long it would be in any direction before he found even the barest sign of vampiric activity. Though he took note of every hawthorn, every dead animal that he came across, the reality was that he wouldn’t be able to make any significant strides on his own. But, he was adamant not to slip into the lackadaisical vacationing mindset that his companions had adopted.

  
  


Still, the caffeine was starting to lose its grip on his system, and the thick, gray sky threatened to come down more with each step he took away from the estate. It almost seemed like the best idea was to start heading back before the rain set in; he could hardly scout anything in the mud.

  
  


A rustle from the underbrush startled Hubert, who spun, hand on his silvered knife, ready to fight. The oncoming pair was far friendlier than he had been expecting, however. “Ferdinand.” He dropped his stance and peered past Ferdinand’s shoulder to make sure that he hadn’t been followed. “And you brought the dog.” The hound was wagging its whole body with as much vigor as its old bones would allow.

  
  


Ferdinand approached, eyes mostly on his feet as he picked across the plants as though they were all covered in spines. “Do you intend to wander in circles out here until you collapse?” he asked. “Or drown. You should know, when it rains out here, it really pours.” He paused to pick a twig out from the straps of his boots.

  
  


“I am plenty aware of the potential weather,” said Hubert. “I have functioning eyes. The rain will not deter me. Why are you here?”

  
  


Ferdinand huffed and put his hands on his hips. “My, are you not willing to accept some help from a friend?”

  
  


_Friend_ . Hubert found himself mouthing the word absentmindedly. An odd taste.  He had figured that that role was off the table at this point. “I don’t recall asking you for help, nor for your bumbling mutt.”

  
  


“I am offended on Derick’s behalf,” said Ferdinand with a hand to his chest. “He is a purebred Basset Hound, you know. A hunting dog, through and through.”

  
  


“Wrong kind of hunting, I’m afraid.”

  
  


“Well, I figured,” said Ferdinand, shuffling his feet over a pit in the ground, “dead meat is  _dead meat_ , right? Derick is old, but his nose is still strong. I think he may be able to find a collection of corpses, no?”

  
  


Though his instinct was to shoot down the idea, Hubert hesitated. He was skeptical, yes, but the enthusiasm with which Ferdinand posited the idea made it almost seem… logical. “Very well. We can try.”

  
  


Ferdinand smiled, and unhooked the dog’s leash before whistling, harsh and loud. It got the dog’s attention in an instant, and Hubert had to pretend not to be startled by how much it rang. “Alright,” said Ferdinand. “Derick, see if you can find some downed prey.” He patted the hound and whistled once more. Derick took the command and hustled deeper into the forest, snout held high, men in tow.

  
  


At first, it felt as though they were simply retracing the paths that Hubert had already come through. But, halfway through one of the aimless circles, Derick’s wagging tail stuck straight up, and the pace changed. Shifting from a walk to a trot forced Hubert to take hold of Ferdinand’s arm to keep him from falling behind in the underbrush.

  
  


Hubert had to ford quite aggressively to keep pace with the energized hound, his focus trained on keeping an eye on the brown and white smudge among the dark, dark forest. When a strangled sound came from Ferdinand behind, Hubert nearly fell over himself trying to halt his momentum and turn around. In Hubert’s careless path, he’d pulled Ferdinand between a pair of drooping trees and gotten his fiery ponytail snagged on a branch, leaving him awkwardly stuck mid-stride. Hubert hesitated, watched the dog making way further ahead, but chose to stay behind to help Ferdinand untangle himself.

  
  


It was difficult not to take fistfuls of twigs and leaves with the strands as Hubert tried to unhook Ferdinand. “ It might be wise,” said Hubert, catching his breath, “to cut your mane, should it continue to cause problems such as this.” He stuck a pair of fingers between a tangled set of strands and worked them apart. The scents coming off of his hair were intoxicating; perhaps his recommendation to cut it was based somewhat in an interest of self-preservation.

  
  


Ferdinand yelped and winced. “Ah, don’t pull! Work from the roots down!” He pouted further when Hubert chuckled under his breath. “Hubert, don’t be mean.”

  
  


There was a tinge of a flush encroaching onto Hubert’s face. “I am just… being logical. I could always cut it for you if you wish; I have been cutting my own hair for some time--”

  
  


“I can tell,” cut in Ferdinand.

  
  


Hubert curled his lip and conveniently pulled a lock just a little too hard to get it off of a particularly nasty branch. “What happened to  _not being mean?_ ” he hissed. He couldn’t resist the tiny rush that came from having Ferdinand so entirely at his mercy; the faces he was making brought a thrill to Hubert’s insides. 

  
  


Crunches in the underbrush made Hubert startle, before he realized that it was the returning hound. He’d been so sure that the dog would have kept barreling forward without them, but here he was, waddling back to Ferdinand and waiting patiently at his feet. “How well-behaved,” Hubert remarked, letting out a breath to play off how much he’d jumped.

  
  


“Trained from birth,” said Ferdinand proudly. “You will find no dog better—ah! _Hubert_!”

  
  


Hubert snorted. He would swear up and down that he’d pulled the hair by accident. “You do see how this mane is nothing but a vulnerability?”

  
  


“Apparently, only when you get your hands on it—ah!”

  
  


Hubert tensed when Ferdinand grabbed hold of his arms, and all at once realized how far he was getting carried away. He ignored the trembling that had taken hold of his hands and the sick joy that he was taking from this, focusing on simply unhooking Ferdinand fully and efficiently from the branches. Once he was free, Ferdinand relaxed into Hubert instead of letting go of him, using him as a crutch to help himself onto a more stable part of the ground. Even still after that, he continued to lean on Hubert as though he didn’t expect him to go anywhere. How could he be treating Hubert with such trust even after he’d been teasing so extensively?

  
  


After a beat, Hubert pried himself from the too-warm touch. “Well. Now we can carry on, yes?”

  
  


“Yes, yes. Thank you, Hubert.”

  
  


With a whistle, Ferdinand set the dog back on track and they were all back on a purposeful path through the woods. After removing Ferdinand from him, Hubert felt strangely cold, like he’d shed one of his warmer layers. The chill to his body wasn’t helped much by the specks of rain that were appearing on his forehead.

  
  


After crunching through the underbrush for some time, the hound perked up and dashed forward into a ditch. At the base of a soggy heap of mud, Derick sniffed at a set of human remains. A stiff quiet set in, and Ferdinand snapped his fingers to call Derick back to his heel as Hubert crept towards the pit. It appeared as though the corpse was meant to be buried and out of sight, but its covering had been disturbed.

  
  


“Well,” said Ferdinand softly. “It isn’t quite what we were looking for, but Derick did a good job anyway.”

  
  


Hubert shook his head and turned over the corpse with a branch. “I think you’ll find that this is exactly what we were looking for.” He gestured at the wounds along the neck and thighs—punctures that could only be vampire bites. “They’ve drained this one dry.” When he looked back to Ferdinand, he was struck by the deep frown that he wore. “You will need to get used to these sights, Ferdinand. We are chasing killers.”

  
  


“It is still upsetting,” said Ferdinand. “I worry that this is how we’ll find Flayn.”

  
  


Hubert internalized the ache that rose at the mention of that mythical girlfriend. He shook his head, leaned down to pet the hound, and gestured at the fibrous corpse. “You’ve done well, Derick. Are you, erm, able to follow this scent further?” At his words, the dog simply blinked with big, glossy eyes.

  
  


“Derick.” Ferdinand snapped his fingers, pointed to the remains. Derick sniffed cautiously until Ferdinand whistled, kickstarting him to run off once more. When the pair followed, Huber found himself needing to put out an arm to halt Ferdinand from tumbling down a sudden dip in the otherwise relatively flat terrain. Derick picked to the bottom with the ease of four legs while Ferdinand clung to Hubert with far more tight a grip than Hubert wished for.

  
  


Shirking Ferdinand’s grip and facing the cold once more, Hubert produced a length of rope from his scouting supplies and tied it to a sturdy trunk. He tiptoed down the incline, using the rope as support, and met Derick at the bottom with a gracious pat for his patience. Once Ferdinand was down safely, Hubert hurried forward.

  
  


The world grew lighter as the canopy thinned, and soon Hubert found himself on the edge of an enormous clearing. A man-made one, judging by the thick layer of green grass and narrow dirt paths. Hubert put out a hand and Ferdinand held back his hound by the collar to keep him from tumbling out into the open.

  
  


“We’ve found them,” whispered Ferdinand as he followed Hubert’s stalking around the perimeter.

  
  


In the far distance, Hubert could hear thunder. “We don’t know yet,” he said, though he was buzzing with energy. He’d passed through this region before, trying and failing to find the settlement of vampires that he’d been confident had taken home in these woods. He’d never been able to pin it down. To think that the missing piece was a pedigree with a sharp nose.

  
  


As they continued to circumnavigate the clearing, Hubert caught sight of a dreary row house, then another. There was a barn, which Hubert could only theorize the purpose of for a species that could only eat humans. The smattering of buildings indicated a bare-bones commune.

  
  


“This has to be where they’re keeping Flayn,” puffed Ferdinand. “We need to go get her—ah!”

  
  


Hubert yanked back Ferdinand by the collar of his shirt. “Be patient,” he hissed. He pointed to a form in the distance: a wandering beast, some kind of perimeter guard, making rounds with another of similar stature. When Ferdinand strained against Hubert’s grip, he pulled harder. “We are not equipped for combat right now. We don’t know how many are in those houses.”

  
  


“But.” Ferdinand made a small whining noise as he fell into step behind Hubert. “We can’t just let it sit like this. What if tonight is the night that she dies?”

  
  


“And what if tonight is _our_ last night?” Hubert whirled on Ferdinand. “If you follow that logic to its end, you’ll die a lot sooner. Death will come no matter what measures we take. Leave it be.”

  
  


“Ever the optimist,” muttered Ferdinand.

  
  


Hubert continued to edge closer to the beasts, who were approaching their location on their route, but an unprecedented sound brought him to a stop. At Ferdinand’s heels, Derick was snarling from deep in his throat, almost loud enough to give away their position. He was bristling at the walking corpses, outraged by their offensive existence.

  
  


Though Hubert appreciated the dog’s intent, he wasn’t going to give up this chance at information. “Take the dog out of here,” he snapped at Ferdinand. “I’m going to get closer.”

  
  


Breaking away, Hubert slipped into stealth, transitioning smoothly into his muscle memory. The darkening sky was on his side as he moved through the trees as a silent shadow, ears and eyes peeled. Though hearing the beasts’ conversation was a losing battle in the growing thunder, Hubert was able to fill in some blanks with a robust aptitude for lip reading.

  
  


“It’s been _way_ too long since we’ve gotten a good treat, now that you mention it.”

  
  


“They’re not for snacks. It’ll be a miracle if there are any left over after the ritual.”

  
  


“Ah, damn. I’d give my left arm to have just one.”

  
  


“You _could_ always offer yourself up as fodder. One non-human won’t ruin it completely.”

  
  


“I don’t even think I get to be _at_ the ritual.”

  
  


“Not with that attitude.”

  
  


“You’re right. I’ll make sure to be real chipper about having to sit at the gate all night. Then maybe they’ll let me have a taste.”

  
  


“Someone has to accept the delivery. You should be honored.”

  
  


“They’ll show up whether I’m there or not.” When the beast looked across the field, Hubert followed the direction of its gaze to an area between the row houses. The gate appeared to be to the West. Perhaps he could intercept this delivery.

  
  


“You know,” mused the more stoic vampire, “the Great Ones don’t appreciate that kind of thinking. Besides, there are many dangers in the region at dawn. Park rangers like to patrol around then.”

  
  


“Don’t appreciate it, huh? Let them complain when they actually show up in all their green godliness.”

  
  


“ _Careful_.” The beast paused its offended lecture to stick its nose in the air. “Do you smell something?”

  
  


Shit. Too close. Hubert had entirely forgotten about the hawthorns that he kept in his scouting pack. Hastily, Hubert slashed into his palm through his glove and chucked a pin far across the way. As he hauled in the other direction, his newly exposed hand stung as cold flecks of rain found their way into the hole of the glove, the rain quickly picking up from a spit into a deluge. Perfect. A muddy, wet escape.

  
  



	14. Act 2 Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys hurry back to the house and recover from their outing. Tensions of all sorts are setting in among the group, and Hubert and Ferdinand are becoming more familiar than Hubert was planning for. This is a short one, but worry not--there's more in store coming soon!

While the old dog was surprisingly quick in setting into Hubert’s pace, Ferdinand was falling behind, visibly unsure of his footing in the dampening woods. It was around the third stumble that Hubert grew sick of constantly checking behind him and opted to take hold, grabbing Ferdinand by the hand to lead him back from whence they came.

  
  


The rain had come like a snap, and just as instantly had the incline they’d arrived from turned into quite the mudslide. But, Hubert had no clue how long the natural barrier went on for, and, with beasts likely on his tail, he had no time to search for a new route. Hubert hurried himself digging through the wet underbrush for the rope he’d left earlier as the hound clamored up the slope ahead. Once Hubert got the rope free, he tugged it taut and passed it to Ferdinand, intending to climb behind him as a buffer for his low confidence on this terrain.

  
  


Ferdinand started up the incline, both hands firmly on the rope, with Hubert just behind, toes at his heels, silently begging for him to hurry. Through the roar of the rain, he could hear a wordless yell from Ferdinand and looked to see the too-confident Derick skidding back down the muddy slope. Hubert implored Ferdinand to stay put and ducked himself to catch the hefty, sausage-shaped hound in one arm. He held him firmly to his chest, covering himself thoroughly in mud. Ferdinand looked back at Hubert with a pair of weepy eyes.

  
  


“Hubert, oh my god, thank you. You actually--”

  
  


“Save the blubbering for later,” barked Hubert, tucking the dog under one arm as his tail wagged in blissful ignorance. “We do not have the _time_.”

  
  


Hubert twisted the rope around his free arm, keeping his eyes on Ferdinand’s bright, beacon-like head through the curtains of the rain. The rope dragged miserably against his wounded hand, but he had no time to switch up his positioning. He was acutely aware of the sensation of  _something_ behind him,  chilling him and pushing him to keep going forward.

  
  


Up ahead, Ferdinand was,  _dammit_ , starting to lower back down. Why couldn’t he just  _go_ ? Before Hubert could scold him, Ferdinand was hollering over his shoulder: “You aren’t getting anywhere like that! Give me your hand!”

  
  


“I will be fine; just get out of my way!” Hubert recoiled from Ferdinand’s hand as though it were venomous.

  
  


“ _Hubert_ .” Ferdinand redirected his hand and grabbed suddenly for Hubert’s collar, yanking him up and around, onto his chest. Hubert sought an escape from this arrangement, but Ferdinand pinned him in place by circling an arm around him to get both hands back on the rope.

  
  


Though he clearly trembled with the effort, Ferdinand managed to haul himself, Hubert, and Derick up along the rope, hand-over-hand. Hubert was left no choice but to let his back rest against Ferdinand’s chest, trusting him to hold steady. Normally, he would be cringing over this kind of touch, but he found himself less tense than he’d been a second ago. Perhaps the presence of Ferdinand at his back made him feel safer from being pursued. Or perhaps he was finally growing desensitized.

  
  


Once back on level ground, Hubert took point, letting the dog trot next to him and purposefully pulling Ferdinand along by his hand once more, in the hope that he could condition himself further to not caring about such things. If he could get used to this, their relationship could go back to being normal, being professional.

  
  


After they’d been going for some time, Hubert said over his shoulder: “Thank you. For helping. I assumed that you wouldn’t be strong enough for such a thing.”

  
  


“Oh, it’s adrenaline, surely,” Ferdinand puffed. “But thanks. It’s fortunate you’re so skinny.”

  
  


Soon, the refuge of Ferdinand’s yard was within reach, and Hubert’s aching muscles were relieved beyond relief to have carried him out of the forest with no tails. That was, until Derick started to growl again.

  
  


Automatically, Hubert placed himself between Ferdinand and the shadow of the beast behind. It was crouched in the bushes, presumably confident in its own stealth, still as a corpse. When Hubert met its eyes, it lunged from cover with alarming speed. It was upon Hubert before he could draw his knife, held off by only Hubert’s elbow. Cold, foul breath crossed his wet cheeks.

  
  


“Hey! Fiend!” Askance to Hubert, Ferdinand pricked his thumb gingerly on a hawthorn and waved it in front of the beast’s nose, attempting to draw it away.

  
  


All that he got for that was a glance in his direction. Right away, the horrendous mouth was straining once more for Hubert’s jugular, and Hubert backed himself into a tree, leaving little room for escape.

  
  


Ferdinand’s hands appeared on the vampire’s shoulders. “I said  _hey_ !” All the beast had to do was swat at him to send him careening into the bushes.

  
  


Hubert took advantage of the moment that the beast lingered on Ferdinand, deciding which morsel to go after. He stooped and snapped a low branch from the tree he was pinned to before thrusting it into the beast’s torso. Blackened sludge splattered across the ground, and, consequently, Ferdinand, as the creature writhed and slackened upon the impromptu stake.

  
  


“Thank you,” breathed Ferdinand as Hubert helped him up. “When the pin didn’t work, I… I didn’t know what to do.”

  
  


Hubert sighed and spat a mouthful of blood, mud, and rain to the side. “These lunatics out here, they’re the most absolutely batty ones. Probably trained themselves to resist.”

  
  


“Hah. Batty.”

  
  


Hubert let go of Ferdinand. “Let’s go and get cleaned up.”

  
  


Despite Hubert’s dismal response, Ferdinand seemed perfectly happy to chuckle to himself. “Ah, well. Maybe Edelgard will--”

  
  


“We do not tell Edelgard.”

  
  


“What? Why?” Ferdinand blinked. “I thought she was here for the same thing as us.”

  
  


“We will tell her about what we found, yes. But not a word that we were followed. She doesn’t need the excess worry.”

  
  


“But--”

  
  


“ _No._ ”

  
  


With stiff, silent barriers back in place between the two, they stomped back to the house, soaked to the bone, exhausted. Hubert couldn’t help but feel bad for being so harsh to Ferdinand, as the sight of him listlessly staring his way, face plastered with strands of wet, orange hair, stirred something deep in Hubert’s gut. He grew thankful for the darkening evening, as his desensitization was helping with the contact, but not the sights.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hubert was well aware that he was the only one in the house capable of making any dinner, so he set himself to the kitchen as soon as he was washed off. He was hardly a master cook, but the heaps of tools available and blinding stainless steel surfaces made him feel as though he were working in a five-star restaurant. He was browsing one of the numerous recipe books when Ferdinand emerged to awkwardly greet him, his hair stuffed into a towel. Though Hubert had been insistent that this trip not be treated like a vacation, something about both he and Ferdinand being showered and in pajamas before it was even dark gave off the atmosphere of a weekend off.

  
  


“So,” Ferdinand said, perching daintily on a stool to peek at Hubert’s doings. “If we are truly not to tell Edelgard about being chased home, what _do_ we tell her?”

  
  


Hubert quirked an eyebrow from over the enormous cast iron skillet that he’d just dug from the cabinets. “I do not know what you mean. We tell her the important information regarding the commune, as well as our plans for tomorrow morning. What else is there?”

  
  


Ferdinand made a face that told Hubert all he needed to know about his comfort with lying. “But, what if she asks about us getting covered in mud?”

  
  


“I see no mud on you,” remarked Hubert as he sparked up the stove. He honed a knife as he waited for the pan to heat, hoping that he could intimidate Ferdinand away if he did so imposingly enough.

  
  


“Yes, but. There are tracks in the garden. And I  _never_ shower more than once in a day; it would dry me out.”

  
  


Hubert didn’t even pretend to be interested in hearing Ferdinand talk about his skin’s moisture. “Hm. Well,  _if_ she asks, we can think of something.”

  
  


“Something?”

  
  


“Perhaps we took up some sport. Mud wrestling.” That one earned a furious blush from Ferdinand, prompting Hubert to overthink the implications. “Just. Erm. Playing around. Having fun.  _Something_ .”

  
  


Ferdinand shook his head. His eyes widened after a beat, looking towards Hubert’s hands. Had the posturing with the knife finally frightened him?

  
  


“Oh, Hubert. I was worried you wouldn’t cover it up.” Ferdinand produced a paper-wrapped bandage from his pocket and took hold of Hubert’s wrist. Hubert held his breath, told himself that this was worth sitting through for the purpose of desensitization.

  
  


“ There,” said Ferdinand, flattening the bandage on Hubert’s scabbing palm. “That is much better.” His hands lingered, of course. How he seemed to enjoy torturing Hubert.

  
  


“Will you let me work--”

  
  


“I see that dinner arrangements have been worked out,” mused arriving Edelgard from the hall. “That’s good. Did you get caught in the rain, Hubert? Your hair is wet.” She propped herself upon the island counter, prompting Hubert to yank his hands away from Ferdinand and return to the dinner prep.

  
  


“I just got out of the shower,” bumbled Hubert, rushing so hard that he ended up simply saying the truth.

  
  


Hubert was already wincing from his rash mouth when Ferdinand moved in with unfortunate support. “We were just having some fun… just now. Ah.” He cleared his throat when Edelgard raised her eyebrows, far more suspicious than she was before she arrived. “I am going to go finish drying my hair.”

  
  


And with that, Ferdinand abandoned Hubert to deal with the consequences of his words alone. “Edelgard, it is not what you--”

  
  


“What you do in your free time is not my business,” Edelgard said tersely. It appeared that she really did disapprove of such implications. Hubert couldn’t help being hung up somewhat on the mention of ‘free time.’ She should have known better than anyone that he didn’t ever have free time. Did she think that he was just goofing off when he wasn’t around? It was no wonder she had grown so cold over this… situation with Ferdinand.

  
  


Silence set in as Hubert focused on dinner. But, after some time squirming under Edelgard’s gaze, he decided that ignoring her wasn’t going to be of any use. He spoke, quietly at first, before clearing his throat and trying again: “We may have found something useful,” he said, “along with the location of the commune.”

  
  


Edelgard set her lips into a line. “Oh, we haven’t actually found Flayn, have we?”

  
  


“No, no.” Hubert waved the steam of the cooking meat away from his face. Though he wasn’t especially fond of the meal he’d picked, he knew that it would make Edelgard happy. “These beasts, they are… up to something. Some ritual.”

  
  


“Do you know what it’s for?”

  
  


Hubert flushed a bit. He wanted to blame his lack of concrete evidence on Ferdinand’s tagging along, but, in reality, without him and that dog, Hubert would have come back empty-handed. “I do not, yet. But I will by the end of the weekend.”

  
  


At the Edelgard hummed. “Let me know when dinner is ready.”

  
  


“I will.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


My, my this is just scrumptious!” This was the fourth or fifth time that Ferdinand had complimented Hubert’s fine-at-best cooking. At least he liked it; for this being one of her favorites, Edelgard didn’t do much more than poke at it.

  
  


Hubert made a point of not looking Ferdinand’s way, as he’d caught himself admiring the gold in his lashes a few too many times this evening. “Are you feeling well, Edelgard?” asked Hubert, pointedly.

  
  


“Yes, yes.” Edelgard shook her head and swallowed back a mouthful of food. “Yes, I am okay. The drive over must have kicked my ass. Ferdinand, Hubert told me that you found the vampires’ residence. Do you think we will find Flayn there?”

  
  


“I think evidence points to it,” said Ferdinand, taking on a serious tone. Hubert wondered how he could be so confident in the loose, partially fabricated evidence. Hubert felt uneasy thinking about his deception. “I just hope she is in good condition.”

  
  


He was so boldly optimistic. “Do you miss her a lot?” Hubert asked, almost accidentally voicing his thoughts.

  
  


“Of course I do,” Ferdinand said into his wine glass. “She is so sweet, so beautiful.” Hubert wished that he would go back to using his adjectives for his cooking.

  
  


“Shit.” Edelgard straightened from her seat, buzzing phone in hand. “I’ve got a call.” She shot a strained look to Hubert. “Business never halts, you know?” She was lying. “Thank you for the dinner.”

  
  


Hubert had nothing to say, no way to try to get her attention back. He felt lonely. He was prepared to simply clean up in silence after that when Ferdinand spoke up all of a sudden, continuing his train of thought as though Edelgard had never interrupted: “I barely even knew her. It’s so strange.” His words were quiet, and Hubert wondered if he was intended to hear them at all.

  
  


“My, are we going to get sentimental?” Hubert sighed. “Should we find something more robust to drink, then?”

  
  


“Ah, ah, ah. I am not going to be hung over tomorrow.”

  
  


“I meant for me,” Hubert muttered into the plates he plucked from the table. He already had reason enough to keep himself away from Ferdinand; he didn’t need a reminder of how deeply in love he was with the damned secretary.

  
  


When Hubert placed himself at the sink to work on dishes, Ferdinand leaned on the counter next to him, unaware of the frustration that he was bringing with that fragrant air, all the more intense from his recent shower. Hubert was getting ready to chase him off when he started to help, taking plates that Hubert had washed and drying them by hand.

  
  


“You know,” Ferdinand pointed out, “I do have a dishwasher.”

  
  


“I prefer doing things myself.”

  
  


Ferdinand took a freshly rinsed platter with a smile. “So do I.” That brought Hubert some pause. It clashed with the image he had of this trust-fund baby who golfs during the work week. Before Hubert could snark about that, Ferdinand elaborated: “Besides, nothing hurries people back into their rooms like letting the machine do the work. The best conversation isn’t at the table; it is while everyone helps clean up.”

  
  


“Then Edelgard is missing out,” said Hubert hesitantly.

  
  


“She is!” Ferdinand laughed, a sound that bounced around in Hubert’s head like an echoing bell. How did he do that? Whenever Hubert laughed, it was as dry as gravel. It seemed unfair that one man had such a monopoly on all of the beauty in the world.

  
  


When his laughter died off, Ferdinand’s joyous face softened into something more wistful. “I cannot really say what’s going on in her head right now, but… she seems lonely.”

  
  


Hubert had nothing to say to that. “What?”

  
  


“I suppose I am either recognizing it, or projecting. But, I mean, if anyone understands loneliness, it is the one with the disappeared girlfriend, is it not?”

  
  


Hubert tried to suppress it, but his frustration was making his movements clumsy. That Edelgard could be _lonely_ , while he was trying so hard to be a part of her life? What right had she? “It’s quite funny to see the man who everyone knows refer to himself as an expert on being alone,” he spat, needlessly cruelly, deflecting on Edelgard’s behalf.

  
  


Ferdinand snorted. “Knowing everyone at the  _bank_ , sure. That must make me happy. You know, Flayn is the first person I’ve kissed in… god, five years? Six?”

  
  


The genuine bitterness in Ferdinand’s voice halted Hubert. He didn’t think him capable of such a tone. “Is, er, kissing so important to you?” He tried to recall the last time  _he’d_ had such an exchange. He couldn’t recall anything similar since he’d lost his virginity in college, and even that had been shallow.

  
  


“The point is, being alone and being lonely are different things. But, I suppose you wouldn’t know, since you seem happy with just Edelgard. I must say, I’m jealous.” Ferdinand shrugged, uncharacteristically weary.

  
  


How Hubert wished that that was the truth. If that were the case, then none of  _this_ would have happened. He wouldn’t be watching Ferdinand with such engrossment, wouldn’t be clinging to each glimpse of freckled skin below the neck, wouldn’t be  _wanting_ .

  
  


“So, you are lonely, then,”  muttered Hubert. Ferdinand leaned in, presumably to catch his low voice over the sound of the running water. “Without Flayn, that is.”

  
  


“You know, I was so excited about her; I thought it would finally go away, but.” But?  _But?_ There was a but? Hubert dropped a dish in the sink from his excitement and it shattered. “Oh, no!” Ferdinand took one of Hubert’s hand with stunning speed. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

  
  


Hubert snorted, yanked his hand away. His face was on fire. “I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m sorry for breaking it.” Thankfully, most of the broken ceramic was contained within the sink.

  
  


“It’s okay, Hubert, I have about a million more just like it.” He placed a hand on Hubert’s shoulder, because of course he couldn’t stop touching him. “I’m just glad you aren’t hurt.”

  
  


Hubert cleared his throat. “You, er, you were just saying something,” he said, trying not to sound too desperate. “What were you going to say?”

  
  


“Ah.” Ferdinand chuckled. “It is just… I only had Flayn as a girlfriend for a week or so. I barely knew her. I didn’t even know where she lived.”

  
  


Hubert bit his tongue, deciding against mentioning that he knew where she lived, nor that he’d discovered that information through Ferdinand’s own files. Not that he could speak any words at the moment; he was still reeling from the revelation that Ferdinand was anything but completely head-over-heels for this woman. His heart was turning over itself like it never had before. When had he ever felt this particular breed of  _hope_ ? He needed to tamp that down fast.

  
  


Hubert put out a hand to grab another dish to wash once the sink was cleaned of the shards, but he found the counter empty. “Will you look at that! No dishes,” interjected Ferdinand obviously. “How quickly we get things done together.”

  
  


“I still need to get the cast iron,” Hubert mumbled, still deeply embarrassed, pushing past Ferdinand. He hoped that he could be rude enough to chase away Ferdinand, and that feeling in his chest.

  
  


“ Do you, um.” Ferdinand stepped in the line of Hubert’s path back to the counter. There was something queer about his affect, and the way that he twiddled his fingers as he spoke. “Would you like me to make you some coffee?”

  
  


Hubert wanted that more than anything. “No. You may excuse yourself to your room, however. Thank you for the assistance.”

  
  


Though there was a tinge of disappointment to his face, Ferdinand straightened up at that and finally looked Hubert in the eye. “You’re welcome,” he said, a shake to his voice. “Good night, Hubert.”

  
  



	15. Act 2 Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We descend on the vampires in the forest to uncover what they're up to. Along the way, our heroes start to realize how much they've grown to trust one another.

“I have a theory,” Hubert said, flipping the labeled switch off, “that the implementation of heated floors is a sign that one has truly run out of things to spend his money on.”

  
  


“ _Hubert_!” Ferdinand yelped and dove to cover his chest with a towel. He had pants on, but no shirt, and he was far more embarrassed by the situation than Hubert was. Perhaps the desensitization was working out.

  
  


“It appears that, in your case, such luxury has made you slothful.” Hubert yanked the towel from Ferdinand’s hands. “We are burning daylight.”

  
  


“The sun isn’t even  _out_ yet.”

  
  


Hubert narrowed his eyes. More freckled than he expected. “You are not as ‘in shape’ as you claim to be,” he remarked under his breath, though Ferdinand most certainly picked up on it. Still, the lack of toned musculature didn’t make him any less… bothersome. In fact, something about the subtle flaws, the imperfections in the skin and softness around the hips, that made him appear more  _real_ to Hubert, more than a figment of his imagination. And that made him more accessible, which was a dangerous thought.

  
  


“Big words from the man I pulled up a cliff yesterday,” grumbled Ferdinand as he fumbled his way through the rest of his skincare routine, as if he expected Hubert to find that a compelling reason to wait.

  
  


“It was not a cliff.” Hubert drummed his fingers impatiently. He caught sight of Ferdinand’s toes curling as he rinsed his face. “Feet cold? Most people use a mat.”

  
  


Ferdinand frowned and reached past Hubert to take his shirt from the door hanger. “You would appreciate the floors more if you enjoyed them properly,” he jabbed. “Some say you haven’t lived until you have made love on--”

  
  


“Have you?”

  
  


“No, but--”

  
  


“Are you  _offering_ ?” Hubert knew he was being impetuous, but the reactions he was getting were bringing him such glee.

  
  


“Uh, well, I. If that’s--”

  
  


“No? Then let’s  _go_ .”

  
  


Hubert started out of the bathroom, but Ferdinand frantically grabbed at his sleeve. “Wait, wait, wait! Did you--”

  
  


“We are leaving, Ferdinand.” Hubert yanked away his arm. Of course the fool would actually  _think_ about it. Hubert rushed out of the room before Ferdinand could remind him further of how much that idea was off of the table. In a swift route out to the front door, he gathered his coat, his travel mug full of fresh coffee, and Edelgard from where she lingered in the sitting room with the dog. He passed her the keys, told her that Ferdinand would be out soon enough, and gave the dog a couple of pats on the way out, along with a quiet thanks for making today’s hunt possible.

  
  


It was a frustratingly long wait in the cabin of the van. Hubert sorted through the route over and over with Edelgard, tracing the map in the dim overhead lamp for what felt like an hour before Ferdinand finally turned up. As Edelgard took the wheel and backed out of the excessively long driveway, Ferdinand situated himself on a bench in the back with a theatrical yawn.

  
  


After one too many yawns, Hubert rolled his eyes and crawled into the back, holding tight to any stabilizing spot he could get his hands on, lest a bump on the winding paths send him into a compromising position. “You went to sleep late,” grumbled Hubert. “Ferdinand, you  _knew_ we were going to leave before dawn.”

  
  


“I went to bed early, I swear,” yawned Ferdinand.

  
  


“He didn’t,” interjected Edelgard. “My room’s next to his. I heard him rustling around all night.”

  
  


When Hubert raised his eyebrows at that, Ferdinand blushed enough to be visibly red in the darkness. “Okay, perhaps I didn’t  _sleep_ early. I tried, I promise, but I just… couldn’t get to sleep.”

  
  


“What, were your sheets  _too_ silken? Poor thing.”  Hubert chortled and sipped from his mug, only to flinch when the van transitioned onto a rougher path, making the liquid inside rebel at the motion. 

  
  


When he caught Ferdinand rubbing his eyes, he held out his mug. “Here. If you’re so tired, drink some.”

  
  


“That sludge? No thank you.”

  
  


Hubert scowled at the phlegmy sound that came from Ferdinand’s throat. “If I see you yawn one more time, I am forcing it down your throat.”

  
  


Ferdinand groaned. “Fine. A sip.” He cradled the mug cautiously as though it were full of poison. He shut his eyes as it went down, brows furrowed, but his face slackened after a moment. He hummed and went in for another sip, and a less intense cringe. With a sigh and a lick of the lips, Ferdinand passed it back. “Nope, still not pleasant in any way. But, I could taste… something past the bitterness, so perhaps the taste is on its way to being acquired.”

  
  


“Anything to make you stop complaining,” said Hubert. He found himself hesitating when he went to drink again. He was truly overthinking things, but somehow he felt like he was crossing some line by partaking in this half-step removed kiss.

  
  


He swallowed and reminded himself that this was part of the process. If he could pretend to be normal about this,  could write off the warmth on the surface as being from the drink and not Ferdinand, he could eventually get to the point that his insides would stop roiling when these things happened.

  
  


“We’re about there,” said Edelgard. “Get yourselves ready.” She pulled the van to the side, half in a ditch, and threw it in park. Hubert and Ferdinand dug their weapons out and settled into silence.

  
  


This was probably the least Hubert had ever been prepared for a sting. He wasn’t even sure what he was really looking for as he squinted through the windshield into the dark, wet forest. Would there even be ground-bound travelers for them to intercept?  The darkness was still thick enough that a couple of powerful beasts could soar over the treetops undetected. If that were the case, how long would they sit there, unaware that their opportunity had long since passed?

  
  


But that wasn’t happening yet, and a pair of headlights was visible flickering behind the trees. A tired old sedan crunched down the dirt path, and Hubert almost thought that it would simply drive past until it came to a stop where a pair of tire ruts marked the one proper entrance to the commune. Doors opened and shut. A trio of darkly dressed forms emerged into the car’s headlights, most definitely a group of beasts. One waved a hand, and out emerged the driver. This one appeared human.

  
  


“ I’m getting out,” whispered Ferdinand. Hubert strained to keep an eye on the shapes through the windshield as he put out a hand, making sure that Ferdinand opened the door as gently and as silently as possible.

  
  


The door swung open, and things were still. Ferdinand looked to Hubert as if searching for the next step, and Hubert had to shrink away from his wide eyes. “Well?” hissed Hubert. “ _Go_ .”

  
  


Ferdinand hopped out, and Hubert lingered for a moment, making brief eye contact with Edelgard in the rear mirror before following.

  
  


“Don’t hit me,” Hubert muttered to Ferdinand when he nocked an arrow. “And climb atop the van for a better line of sight.” He tucked a few long stake arrows into Ferdinand’s quiver. “And  _be careful_ .”

  
  


With that, Hubert disappeared into the cover of the woods. He felt his pouches and pockets, checking that he was well-equipped. Knife, razor wire, irritant powder, silver pins… he decided to approach this group with a nice, reliable stake  in hand.

  
  


The beasts were talking with their captive, a bleary-eyed woman who was clearly deep in their thrall. One beast took her hand and kissed it—an offering, a thanks for the ride. She gazed at the beasts as though they were the greatest beauties in the world.

  
  


Hubert was hesitant to approach while the hostage was so near. Would she even be possible to rescue without making a scene and drawing attention from within the commune? He found himself weakly hoping that they would just… let her go, if she was only useful to them as a driver. Ferdinand’s optimism had been rubbing off on him.

  
  


The beast that had kissed her pulled her away from the car, and gestured towards the others, who swung open the doors of the car and pulled out a couple of other humans. These two were unconscious, and they were heaped over the back of one of the transformed beasts like saddlebags. With a wave, the still conscious woman fell asleep, and she was slung up with the others.

  
  


An arrow loosed and landed in the calf of the vampire doing the loading. Hubert held his breath, and watched with a chill as the ears of the transformed beast swiveled to face the source of the arrow. It knew exactly where Ferdinand was. It turned, and the bodies atop it sloughed off into the mud as it started in that direction. Hubert waited, waited for it to get closer before taking his opportunity and leaping as far as his legs would allow, cramming a pouch of irritants into its muzzle, making sure to rip it open on its teeth and dig some silver shavings into its gums. It gave a furious, disgusting hiss, and Hubert knew that he’d taken it by surprise.

  
  


The beast toppled back onto Hubert as he swung from its neck, knocking the air out of his chest. It tumbled over and under, claws hitching his clothes, spittle flying in his face. Blood and sludge joined the mess as Hubert sawed through its thick hide with razor wire.

  
  


With a plucking twinge of a sound sound not unlike a fresh violin string being twisted into place, the wire snapped, whipping back and hatching slits into Hubert’s gloves. When he recovered from the shock and tossed aside the ruined wire, Hubert found that the beast had gone. It was taking off in the direction of the van.  Hubert started to follow it into the dark, but hesitated when he remembered the other beasts. He would have to trust his comrades to finish what he’d started.

  
  


The other beasts shrunk when Hubert turned on them, a frightened pair of silhouettes against the backdrop of the headlights. They bickered with one another as they backed towards the heap of unconscious humans. “We have to dispose of them,  _now_ !” cried one, the taller of the two.

  
  


“What?” Its acquaintance balked. “We need them!  _They_ need them!”

  
  


When Hubert brandished his knife, the two squirmed. “They can make do without! Do you want them to get away and lead the rangers back here?”

  
  


The shorter one looked back to the heap of people, hesitant. In that moment, an arrow sailed from the darkness and pinned the beast to the ground.  Hubert took the opportunity to lunge, stake in hand, but the taller beast transformed quickly enough to take hold of him and sling him across the dirt road. As he tried to get his footing back on the mud, Hubert had to watch helplessly as the hulking beast tore its claws into the nearest human. 

  
  


Hubert strained to get himself back across the road in time to save the other hostages, only to trot to a halt when a long, solidly placed stake arrow sunk through the beast’s massive chest. The shot was so successful that it almost infuriated Hubert. He wanted to scream at Ferdinand to preserve the killing arrows and not take reckless bets on them being effective on transformed beasts. It was practically a miracle that it had worked at all. When Hubert looked back in the direction of the van, he couldn’t make out much more than the flash of Edelgard’s ax as she vanquished the beast down the road.

  
  


His attention was pulled back by the repulsive, skin-ripping sound of the vampire on the ground transforming, prying itself out of the mud. Before Hubert could move an inch, it had taken it upon itself to slice open the other hostages before turning on him. Tense, Hubert brandished his stake at the newly towering gargoyle, but it snatched it without hesitation, swinging it, and Hubert, to the side. Hubert was pulled up off of the ground, and when his grip slipped, he landed on the roof of the still running car, denting it soundly. He searched for his balance, glancing behind to see that the road dropped off rather suddenly into a deep, murky creek.

  
  


The car lurched. Hubert pawed desperately for anywhere to get purchase on the smooth aluminum surface as the beast tried to kick the whole thing into the pit. Hubert met its eyes for a second as it hunched to lift the end, tilting the car over itself.

  
  


With no options left, Hubert scampered across the toppling chassis and leaped for the beast. He found the protruding shaft of Ferdinand’s arrow in its shoulder, firmly secured from the extra layers of flesh that the transformation had granted. Grabbing hold of the shaft, Hubert swung from it like a gymnast and landed on the ground past the beast before it could send him into the pit.

  
  


When Hubert recovered from his landing, he caught sight of Ferdinand trotting down the road towards him, far closer to the beast than he needed to be. “Ferdinand!” Hubert ducked under a claw swipe from the beast, attention split between it, Ferdinand, and Edelgard in the distance. “What are you  _doing_ ?”

  
  


Ferdinand brandished his bow at the beast like a toreador drawing a bull. He was so bright and loud that it was certainly effective on Hubert’s attention. “I have an idea,” called Ferdinand, standing his ground as the beast approached him. “Just humor me!”

  
  


“What? Ferdinand!” Hubert watched in horror as Ferdinand took a running leap across the pit that the car had fallen into. Though the beast pursued hastily, Ferdinand spun to trot backwards, watching and readying an arrow as though he had all the time in the world.

  
  


When the beast leaped across the creek, Ferdinand audibly scoffed, muttered something to himself. Hubert grew increasingly tense as the distance between Ferdinand and the beast shrunk too quickly for comfort. He started to plan a rescue, wondered if he could throw something across the way hard enough to make the beast stop.

  
  


Then, Ferdinand came to a halt, hollering complete nonsense at the beast: “ If I have a two digit number that’s seven times the sum of its digits…”

  
  


The monster was slowing. Hesitating. What on earth was he doing?

  
  


“… And the number you get from switching the digits is 25 less than the number I have, what’s the number?” Ferdinand was beaming as he finished yelling. He’d brought the beast to a complete halt, and took the chance to loose his stake arrow through its heart. Hubert was so dumbstruck that he couldn’t do anything except let out a massive breath when he realized just how  _worried_ he’d been. 

  
  


Ferdinand stuck out a hand across the ditch and Hubert took it, helping him back across. The absolutely massive grin across his cheeks was bright enough to light the way through the gray dawn. “Don’t ever ask me to do that again,” Ferdinand puffed. “It was  _terrifying_ .”

  
  


Hubert forced his still gaping mouth to shut. “Okay,” he said. “But, for the record, what the  _hell_ was that?”

  
  


“Tried out two hypotheses,” said Ferdinand with his chest puffed. “One was running water. He got across that just fine, so  I fell back to numbers. I believe the books I read called it arithnomania.” He shook his head. “I don’t even think there was an answer to the problem I had; it just--”

  
  


“Ferdinand. What the  _fuck_ are you talking about.”

  
  


His eyebrows raised. “Oh, it appears as though I know more about vampires than you do! You’ll have to catch up on your research, Hubert.”

  
  


Perhaps all of those hours spent reading up on vampires hadn’t been completely worthless. “Well,” puffed Hubert. “I could have told you that the weakness to running water was a myth.”

  
  


“Sure,” jeered Ferdinand. “ By the way, Hubert, you really ought to watch your language. No need to be rude, even out here.”

  
  


Ah, right. Though Ferdinand was handsome and smart, he would never stop being obnoxious. Hubert spun to walk away, only to  halt when  he caught sight of Edelgard stooping over the corpses of the hostages. All at once, Hubert was forced to remember that this was an important mission, and he couldn’t spend it goofing off with Ferdinand. He was truly a heinous distraction.

  
  


“Edelgard,” said Ferdinand sheepishly, emerging from behind Hubert, “are you alright?”

  
  


“Fine,” muttered Edelgard. “I’m fine.” She reached across the pile of carnage and closed the eyes of the unfortunate losses.

  
  


“Do you… want to stop and bury them?” When Ferdinand moved in to comfort her, Hubert felt so incredibly distant. He was never any good at comforting her when things like this happened.

  
  


When there was a pause, Hubert couldn’t help his impatient side coming through: “We do not have very much time, you know…”

  
  


“Hubert, come now. These are lost lives--”

  
  


“He’s right, Ferdinand.” Edelgard sighed, pushed herself up, and brushed the dust off of her knees. “It just stings that this has been the only chance to actually  _save_ anyone, and we failed.”

  
  


“I’m sorry,” said Ferdinand, head reverently bowed. “I should have shot sooner; I didn’t think that they would--”

  
  


“It isn’t your fault.”

  
  


Hubert wanted to say something, to do  _anything_ to make her feel better, but nothing came. She’d been so distant and unhappy; Hubert had hoped so dearly that this mission would snap her out of her funk and give her something to do, but apparently that was no solution. It wasn’t as though Hubert wasn’t  _trying_ , but where he would normally feel sympathy for her ennui, he found himself growing frustrated with her mood. Did she expect him to read her mind and discover what what bugging her? He felt as though he used to be able to do that, but it had gone away since he’d gotten caught up in these distractions.

  
  


When Edelgard spoke again, her voice was thin. “I keep thinking about all of the people back in the city who we’ve left vulnerable to do this. Emile can’t deal with  _everything_ back there.”

  
  


Hubert winced. He hadn’t considered such consequences. “I apologize, Edelgard.”

  
  


“ Do we even bother going through with all of this, right now?” She gestured towards the entrance to their goal.

  
  


“Do you want to go home?”

  
  


“Maybe.”

  
  


Hubert wanted to persuade her of the potential discoveries to be made out here. He’d been dying since last night to uncover what this  _ritual_ was that the beasts were discussing, and he knew that the findings at this commune would be significant for future hunts. But, he knew that she wasn’t interested in such nonsense right now. “In that case--”

  
  


“Edelgard, have you forgotten what we are here for?” Ferdinand drew himself up, hands on his hips. Hubert wanted to shrivel up with shame at where this was pointing.

  
  


“Maybe it is selfish of me,” continued Ferdinand to a visibly stunned Edelgard, “but I intend to come home from this week with Flayn in my arms, safe and sound. And who knows what other people they may have locked away here? Surely this set of humans is not the first.”

  
  


Edelgard sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Flayn, huh? I had almost forgotten.” She hoisted her ax over her shoulder and gave Hubert a dry look. “In that case, I suppose we must go.”

  
  


Taking point, Edelgard picked forward down the tire tracks that marked the way into the commune. Behind her, Ferdinand strode with the confidence of a man truly on his way to save his girlfriend from the jaws of a beast. And taking up the rear, eyeing their six, Hubert dragged his feet. How much easier would this trip had been with just Edelgard and himself? Every conversation felt to Hubert like a delicate balancing act while Ferdinand chucked overripe tomatoes at him from the cheap seats.

  
  


Overhead, the black sky was considering the concept of turning blue over the treetops. Through the pitch, the only visible sign that they were even moving forward was the flickering of lamp lights far down the path. Eventually, the one light multiplied into more, shaping out the space that the vampires occupied in the grassy knoll. Just past the ambient hoots and chirps of the forest, voices were just audible. Chanting.

  
  


“ These ones are truly strange, aren’t they?” whispered Ferdinand. “Have you ever encountered anything like this?”

  
  


“I haven’t,” said Hubert. “But, I have heard mention of the supposed Great Ones before. Evidence points to them simply being, well, old vampires. Old, powerful vampires.”

  
  


Edelgard huffed and tapped her ax impatiently. “It’s now or never,” she said. “Ferdinand, you will back me up as I storm the front gate. Hubert--”

  
  


“I will go.” Hubert quickly slid into the underbrush and coasted forward into a vantage point, hiding the sounds of his movements among the ambient noise. He could just see the pair of guards at the entryway, illuminated under a simplistic arch of wood. They were the same ones from yesterday, just where they said they would be. He could see them perk up, looking into the darkness, and he took the opportunity to fall into a more offensive position.

  
  


“Are y’all  _finally_ here?” The guard’s voice was tense. “We’re about to finish up, so if you could—oh, shit.” 

  
  


Though the speaking guard motioned to its coworker to make a break for it, Hubert had already planted a stake between the thing’s shoulders. Not a sound further could come from the other as Hubert gagged it with a pouch of irritants. Through the blackness, an arrow sailed and landed in the beast’s arm. It tried and failed to scream around the bag, and gasped when Hubert knocked its knees out from underneath it.  He clutched the beast by its hair, holding it straight, and tilted his head to Edelgard, who proudly swung her ax and split the beast in two.

  
  


From further into the knoll, a gasping yelp was audible. Hubert glanced up to see that a beast from within had noticed their presence and was getting the attention of those around it. Almost on instinct, Hubert disappeared back into the thicket of the forest before the inhabitants could come running. Edelgard and Ferdinand descended upon the onlooker vampire as Hubert kept a close eye on them, in step with them heading towards the clearing proper.

  
  


For whatever reason, the wave of incoming beasts resembled more of a trickle. Perhaps those in the center had not heard yet about the attack. Not wishing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Hubert left his companions to hold the bottleneck while he investigate the dim red light that poked out from between the row houses.

  
  


Hubert slipped effortlessly behind the lines and hugged against the wall of a row house, stake readied for any potential ambushes. If he craned his neck far enough around the house, he could get a look at the happenings in the center of the area.

  
  


The knoll really looked like a forest fire waiting to happen. Candles and lanterns were scattered across the grass, growing greater in numbers near the middle, where a group of what had to be more than two dozen beasts encircled a d ais. Though Hubert would jump to deny the existence of any kind of “magic” that wasn’t simply science that people didn’t understand, he didn’t think that this group of fanatics would have went out and bought a bunch of colored lights and a blood fountain just to fool the layman. There was something seriously wrong going on here.

  
  


Hubert wondered what to make of this mess. More importantly, he wondered how the hell he was going to go about taking all of these monsters down. The numerous flickering flames tempted him, but the consequences would be too dire. He didn’t need to suffer the fury of Ferdinand having his weekend home burned down by an out-of-hand forest fire.

  
  


When Hubert stepped closer, trying to formulate a plan, the tall vampire that stood in the center perked up. Hubert tensed, expecting to be descended upon, but the beast turned its attention to the followers surrounding it instead. It seemed displeased with whatever situation was at hand in the circle, and gestured to a couple of the kneeling, chanting vampires. They snapped up instantly, as though pulled along on strings, and climbed into the foul fountain of blood. The lights grew brighter and the fountain grew higher. That was at least a couple fewer beasts to fight.

  
  


The leader put up a hand with long, pointed fingers, pointing to something beyond the row houses, and a truck roared to life in the distance, joining the cacophony of chanting and death throes. The sheer sensory overload was on the verge of driving Hubert mad.

  
  


He was rocked awake somewhat by the sight of an arrow flying from overhead, landing between the shoulders of one of the kneeling vampires and sending it to the ground. None of its neighbors reacted. Hubert let out a breath and shot a glance up to Ferdinand, who had managed to climb to the roof of a row house.

  
  


Hubert shrugged  to himself, once more glad to take what opportunities presented themselves. He crept forward out of the shadow of the house, his gait careful, and approached the circle. The beasts paid no mind to Hubert at all. Their eyes were glazed as though they had been returned to corpses. 

  
  


As he grew closer, Hubert caught wind of an acrid, rusty scent. The fountain was most certainly full of blood. And that blood looked to be coagulating, forming into something more solid. The swirling mass in the center was hypnotic to stare at, pulling him in not unlike a thrall, emptying his mind.

  
  


Hubert shook it off in a hurry. He’d trained himself plenty on resisting thralls. Before he could get sucked back in, he went to work staking the ritual participants, one by one. Though the beast in the center clearly noticed him, it didn’t regard him with anything more than a scowl before returning its attention to the bloody mass upon the dais.

  
  


Every other beast was skewered by arrows as Hubert and Ferdinand worked in tandem, until only a couple of beasts remained. The form in the center was quickly growing more defined and more dreadful in the emerging glow of dawn.

  
  


As Hubert approached the last couple of beasts, the ringmaster looked his way once more. It snapped its long fingers, and the beasts awoke from their trances, leaping over the corpses of their allies to reach Hubert. They warped immediately into their larger forms, and Hubert switched gears in response, deigning to kite them away from the center. He made way straight for the tree-lined edge of the clearing, which the hulking forms struggled to navigate in his wake.

  
  


A yowl cut through the air. Hubert cautioned a look over his shoulder to see one of the beasts clawing its way up the row house he’d left behind, arrow sticking from its eye and vestigial wings fluttering in such a way that Hubert couldn’t tell whether they were doing anything to help it. Atop the roof, Ferdinand backed precariously across the tiles.

  
  


“Ferdinand!” Hubert turned around, but his path was interrupted by the beast that had pursued him. Fear made his nerves spark as he readied his stake. Everything felt like it was moving frustratingly slow. If his limbs could only catch up to him, he could save Ferdinand from his looming fate.

  
  


Despite the slowness, he found that his movements were too hasty, too reckless; as he swung his stake, the beast intercepted it with its great teeth and crunched it into splinters. Casting aside the now useless chunk of wood, Hubert fumbled for any kind of replacement. His hands landed on his silver pins, and he found them at least satisfactory for now. He anticipated a claw strike, dodged, and drove a pin clean through the sickly gray skin on the back of its hand. When the beast recoiled from pain, Hubert carried that momentum to pull the pinned hand down so that he could drive it into the relatively soft ground, trapping the beast for a few fleeting moments. Hubert would swear up and down that his rush to escape this fight was due to his supplies depleting, and he needed the assistance of those stake arrows for kills. That was what he was so worried about. That was why he was bellowing Ferdinand’s name like it was the last word he knew how to use, like the sound alone would be enough to save him.

  
  


Hubert came upon the base of the row house at the same time as Edelgard, who looked just as unsure of what to do as he felt. Still in a rush, Hubert directed her towards the beast he’d left in the trees and circled round the building, eyes fixed up on the roof. As he dodged falling tiles, he caught the eye of Ferdinand, who was growing closer and closer to the edge Hubert jogged along.

  
  


“Hubert,” Ferdinand hollered. “Catch!”

  
  


The bow sailed from the roof, along with its quiver. Hubert cushioned the bow’s landing, more than aware of its propensity to break. At first, upon getting his hands on the bow, Hubert tried to draw on the beast above, but Ferdinand blocked his line of sight, and the shot would be far too dangerous. Hubert dropped the bow in frustration and threw his hands skyward. “Do you have anything else of use to send?”

  
  


“Yeah! I’m coming down!”

  
  


“ _You?_ ” 

  
  


Ferdinand ducked under a scrape from the beast’s claws and dropped himself onto his behind before scooting off of the edge of the roof. Time froze for a moment, and Hubert could see in perfect clarity the snapping maw of the beast above and the skyward sailing wisps of Ferdinand’s hair as he fell, licking the air just like the flames underfoot. He knew that the beast would have no problem with following Ferdinand down. His logical brain told him to run, told him that the ground was soft enough for Ferdinand to handle the fall.

  
  


Just as suddenly as it had stopped, time skipped forward and Ferdinand was already in his arms. The recoil from the impact shot Hubert’s balance and sent him toppling backwards, clinging to Ferdinand on instinct. He was rattled, but he was fine. They were both fine. Ferdinand was smiling at him.

  
  


“Good catch,” gasped Ferdinand. “Next time, I know you’ll stick the landing.”

  
  


Ferdinand got up and pulled Hubert to his feet. He was pushing the bow into Hubert’s hands, insisting that he was the better shot after how much the fall had shaken him up. Hubert’s head was whirling too much for him to say anything back. He needed  _time_ . He needed just a moment to breathe, to let his body recover from the fear.  He felt like he was going to cry.

  
  


But there was nothing to be upset about. He was okay. Ferdinand was okay. Neither of them would be okay if they were to continue sitting around like this. Hubert shook himself, sucked in a breath, and nocked a wooden arrow. He had to dive out of the path of the beast that careened from the roof, but as soon as he was back on his feet, he sailed the arrow straight into its chest. The bow felt right in his hands.

  
  


Edelgard emerged from the woods with a bloodied ax, and Hubert was emboldened by the reforming of the group. He whirled to face the horrid form at the center of the clearing, which was starting to take a more clear shape as the vampire in command gesticulated furiously as though it was sculpting the shape from without, its wide sleeves swooping and circling with the movement. Hubert sank a silver-tipped arrow into its shoulder, but it carried on with nary a flinch.

  
  


“Shit.” Hubert pawed in the quiver for a stake arrow, but of course there were none left. He searched desperately for something of use, found the  shaft that he’d put into the last beast’s chest was split. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gleam of Edelgard’s ax catching the emerging morning sunlight. When he met her eyes, she was ready to act.

  
  


Going from a trot to a run, Edelgard crossed the grassy clearing. Blackened blood dripped from her hands as she planted herself halfway between Hubert and the ringmaster beast and swung the ax forward. It sailed, spinning end-over-end, straight into the beast’s shoulder, sending it to the ground.

  
  


The trio approached in the moment of opportunity, but the damned thing got up again before they could get to it. It looked back at them with something resembling a grin before stepping into the bloody form, disappearing completely. All of a sudden, the thing wasn’t just a form. It was  _breathing_ and moving off of the dais.

  
  



	16. Act 2 Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There really is something inherently intimate about tending to someone's grievous wounds, isn't there?

If Hubert had encountered this thing in the wild, he would have assumed it an especially beastly vampire in its gargoyle form, with its tall haunches, huge ears, and patchy wings. But there were so many things wrong with it, between the sickly greenish skin, the way that blood seemed to bubble from every orifice, and the fact that it was able to exist in the new daylight without being shrunken into a humanoid body.

  
  


The trio backed off, weapons reared, but it didn’t attack. It just sat there, staring with enormous, glassy eyes. Was it blind? It was hard to tell, as it seemed to look at each one of them in turn with a wide, expressionless gaze.

  
  


Where Hubert had filtered it out before, the groan of the truck that was stashed beyond the houses resurfaced as it puttered up towards the dais, where a small group of low-level vampires scrambled out. They slung ropes over the monstrosity and herded it towards the trailer, which it passively allowed.

  
  


“Come on,” said Ferdinand, snapping the others out of their stunned stares. “We can’t just let them get away!”

  
  


Hubert wanted to stop him and remind him that they were so depleted on supplies that it was completely foolish to fight not only more vampires, but this newfound hulking mass of blood and muscle. But Ferdinand was already charging forward with a stake in hand, and Hubert couldn’t just stay behind. He sprinted forward, passed Ferdinand the bow so that he wouldn’t be in the brawl, and readied his silver pins.

  
  


One of the beasts broke off when it saw their approach, leaving its friends to stuff the monstrosity into the trailer. It was a relatively quick fight, leaving the thing stuck fast to the ground by pins and arrows, but Hubert was too confident when he approached the next beast, and he was slung to the ground.

  
  


“You will _not_ take our gift away,” hissed the sallow creature over Hubert, placing a foot on the back of his neck.

  
  


Hubert was face-to-face with the front tire of the rumbling truck, and he could hear the driver’s side door slamming shut. “I don’t know,” he huffed, “what that  _thing_ is, but you and I both know that it shouldn’t be alive.”

  
  


“Don’t be disrespectful,” the beast snapped. “She is beautiful, and the Great Ones will adore her—”

  
  


The weight was released from Hubert’s neck suddenly, and he shot up to see Edelgard sending the beast to the ground with her bloodied ax in its neck. Hubert clamored to his feet and backed as far away from the truck as possible, and when he felt a hand at his back, he realized that Ferdinand had helped him up.

  
  


The truck grumbled out towards the exit with Edelgard jogging behind it. “We can’t stop it,” she called over her shoulder. “But I want to see where it’s headed!”

  
  


Hubert moved to follow her, but Ferdinand’s hand fell on his shoulder and stopped him. When he turned back, he was met with pleading face, eyes big and soft.

  
  


“Would you help me look for her?”

  
  


Hubert ached to hear the pathetic hope in his voice. “Yes, I will.”

  
  


At least there could be something gleaned from the search. Hubert collected a few documents and books in the hopes of studying these fanatics, and found an especially thick tome laid out in one of the houses with the details of this ritual written out. Though the instructions were worded frustratingly cryptically, he could grasp that the goal was to create a powerful, idealized gargoyle that couldn’t be hindered by daylight. He could also gather that the ritual required a lot of sacrifices, and at least some human blood. Without their delivered sacrifices, the beasts had had to make do with themselves, which also meant that the ones Hubert and Ferdinand had killed were meant as fodder, anyway. It killed him to know that he’d contributed to the ritual’s success, but the difference between the thing that they’d encountered and the illustrations in the book told him that that success was only partial.

  
  


Deciding to keep the findings about the ritual to himself, Hubert stuffed as many books as he could fit into his pack and carried on with Ferdinand’s search for Flayn. Of course, nothing turned up. There were a few leavings of human remains in the basements of the row houses that Hubert tried to incline Ferdinand into believing were hers, so that he could at least let this topic rest. But Ferdinand had a counter to each pile of bones and flesh.

  
  


“She wasn’t that tall.” “Jeans? No, no, she always wore those compression tights, she said that they helped with her circulation.” “That is most certainly a man; look at the fingernails.” And, worst of all, “I just… believe that she’s alive. I can feel it.”

  
  


There was no arguing that one.  As the cyclical discussions went on, Hubert was left exhausted and Ferdinand visibly miserable. Eventually, he stopped saying anything about the remains. He just shook his head and looked into the distance.

  
  


When they emerged from the last row house into the misty morning, Edelgard was making her way back, puffing with exertion from the jog out and back. “The van was totaled,” she said, hand on the back of her head. “Bastard knocked it into the ditch on the way out. I suppose it will have to be a walk home. You know the way, yes?”

  
  


Hubert sighed deeply. “On foot it is, then.”

  
  


“Look at the bright side,” said Ferdinand quietly, his tone clashing with his words. “We can most certainly handle the walk home, since no one was hurt especially bad. Some luck, huh?”

  
  


Edelgard’s cheek creased in a look of pity. “Didn’t find Flayn, did you? Are you all finished searching?”

  
  


“I still want to get a closer look at the ritual’s source,” said Hubert. “And then, there is still a barn--”

  
  


“I will go,” interjected Ferdinand. “I… could use a moment alone.”

  
  


Hubert knew better than to object. “Go ahead.”

  
  


As Ferdinand broke off, Hubert went about observing the stone dais that the blood had come from. There was little of use under the layer of dried blood, aside from a few sigils that  he had seen in the book. He couldn’t figure out where the fountain had spouted from, as there were no holes in the surface. If there was going to be some kind of revelation here about how and why magic appeared to be happening, Hubert couldn’t find it.

  
  


“Do you think we’ll need to buy a new van for Ferdinand’s housekeepers, or will he be able to charm them enough to make up for it?” Edelgard watched Ferdinand across the grass, arms crossed.

  
  


Hubert couldn’t help but scoff. “I certainly think he’s capable of that. But.” He got up from his knees and snapped a couple of photographs of the dais with his cell phone. “Knowing him, he would go out and buy them a brand new one, anyways.”

  
  


Edelgard quirked an eyebrow. “How saccharine.”

  
  


“ Indeed,” Hubert muttered as he swiped a sample of blood into a vial. Maybe something could be gained from having Mercedes run tests on it, though it seemed unlikely. As Hubert busied himself gathering bits of evidence, he couldn’t ignore the pit that had formed in his stomach. The fight had gone smoothly until the end, and Hubert was expecting a far more upbeat atmosphere, but Ferdinand’s desperate search for his girlfriend was stuck sitting with him. “I don’t like to see him disappointed,” he blurted.

  
  


“It is pitiful, isn’t it? He hasn’t been jaded by all of this yet.”

  
  


She spoke as if they weren’t forcing him along the path to being jaded far too quickly by putting him through all of these emotional roller coasters. “I don’t know if we will ever see him become as blasé as we are.”

  
  


Edelgard cocked her head, a challenging look in her eye. “Oh, yeah? I’m willing to bet it takes less than a full calendar year.”

  
  


Hubert frowned and tried to crack his neck, where tension had started to creep in following the fatigue of battle. “Edelgard--”

  
  


“Guys!” Ferdinand’s voice rang suddenly across the clearing like a bell. “I’ve found a car; we don’t need to walk home!”

  
  


Hubert and Edelgard perked and exchanged a look before starting towards the barn. Across the way, Ferdinand poked his head out of the old wooden doorway like a dandelion from the concrete.

  
  


Hubert wanted to be relieved, but he had to hesitate. “Is it safe?” he called as he hit a mild jog across the grass.

  
  


“I don’t know what you mean--”  Ferdinand cut himself off with a shriek, and he disappeared from the door. Despite the warming sun on his skin, Hubert felt ice in his veins. He patted his pockets for any kind of weapon as he broke into a sprint. He was nowhere near as prepared as he liked to be, but that wouldn’t stop him.

  
  


“Edelgard, your ax!” When she passed it off to him, likely too put off by his commanding her to question it, Hubert all but ripped it from her hand. It was hefty in his palm, heavier than he was usually comfortable with. And that would work perfectly.

  
  


Hubert moved swiftly into the barn in time to see Ferdinand kick the beast off from where it had buried itself into a wound in his thigh. It looked over to Hubert as it tumbled back, blood smeared on its face and hunger in its eyes. Hubert wouldn’t even give it a second to realize that it was dead.

  
  


Swinging high over his head, Hubert drove the ax down with more force than he thought he could muster after the long battle. He needed to feel confident that he was paying back all of the pain he’d heard from Ferdinand’s scream. Skin gave way under the ax, bone crunched, but it stuck only halfway. Blood bubbled from the schism. Hubert adjusted his grip on the handle.

  
  


“You filthy pig,” spat Hubert. “Did you think that hiding out here would earn you an extra snack?” With no mechanism for speech, the beast simply wheezed under the ax, fluid dripping from its mouth. “How did he taste?”  Hubert ripped the ax out of the wound, preparing for another swing. “I do hope he was sweet. I hope he was worth it.”

  
  


Hubert was satisfied by the solid floor beneath the blade. He spat on the corpse, tossed the ax aside, heart roaring in his ears. Dropping to the floor, he took Ferdinand by the collar.

  
  


“Ferdinand, you fool,” he said, voice tight. “What did it do? You haven’t been bit?” He swept away his hair to check his neck for punctures. Smooth as ever, thankfully.

  
  


“It’s just a cut,” groaned Ferdinand, his face contorted in a wince. “I will be… just fine.”

  
  


Hubert tried to push aside the excess blood to see the wound. “Christ. You’re lucky it missed your femoral. Hold still.”

  
  


Hubert ripped his shirt to shreds and layered fabric onto the wound. He was vaguely aware of Edelgard behind him retrieving her ax, and he knew that she would be angry for his earlier tone, but he cared about nothing right now beyond the blood he was trying to halt. If he managed to properly staunch the flow, maybe he would also be able to stop those dreadful yelps and whines coming from Ferdinand.

  
  


“Don’t move,” Hubert repeated, tightening another knot of fabric. Edelgard reached into the pockets of the felled beast and straightened up with a key in hand. As she circled to the driver’s side, Hubert swung open the back door of the old, rusted sedan and hoisted Ferdinand up off of his back. “Fuck,” hissed Hubert as he fumbled his grip, hands shaking. “You’ll need to cooperate some. Can you move the leg at all?”

  
  


“Language, Hubert.” Ferdinand slowly bent his knees and allowed Hubert to pull him up across the seats. “Ah! Dammit!” He clapped a hand over his mouth when his leg  bounced on the way in.

  
  


“ _Language,”_ Hubert hissed.

  
  


Ferdinand’s groaning turned into a weak, breathy chuckle. “Sorry… it does hurt a little bit.” He took hold of Hubert’s arm when he reached over to shut the door. “For you, though, I will tough it out to the very last.”

  
  


Hubert bit back what threatened to be a smile at the sickeningly sentimental words. “You are not going to die,” he said. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  
  


Edelgard made a frustrated sound from the front, and Hubert overheard the telltale clicking of a dead battery. A collective sigh went through the car at the sound, but Hubert resisted despair. He had to come up with a solution; the longer Ferdinand bled, the more likely that his leg was forfeit.

  
  


“We are getting you back,” said Hubert firmly. “Edelgard, do you know how to pop a clutch?”

  
  


Edelgard threw her hands up. “I’ll be honest: I don’t even know how to drive a stick shift.”

  
  


“Get out and push; I will steer.”

  
  


Hubert was reluctant to leave his injured comrade, but he gritted his teeth and climbed into the driver’s seat while Edelgard shoved the old lemon through the grass. It took a couple of tries to get the wheels turning properly, but eventually, on the tire tracks leading out, the engine turned. The rough roar of the mechanism cut through the still morning and sent a few birds fluttering away.

  
  


Hubert punched it as hard as he could through the winding forest paths. He sailed past the unfortunate wreck of the van, toppled deep in the ditch. If the thing’s fate ever came up, he would be forced to tell Ferdinand’s housekeepers something about being a terrible driver.

  
  


On the drive back, whenever Hubert wasn’t rounding some tight curve, he was peering into the dusty mirror to keep an eye on his allies. At his command, Edelgard kept pressure on Ferdinand’s leg. Every galloping bump in the road had Ferdinand wincing and hissing through his teeth, and by the end of the ride his weariness was clear from the way that his head lolled around, orange halo of hair tousled and tangled on the vinyl seat.

  
  


Once in the house, Hubert rested Ferdinand on the floor of his bathroom and spread out his stash of medical supplies on the tile. At Ferdinand’s request, Hubert stuffed a rolled up robe under his head and cranked those blasted heated floors. At least this was almost a reasonable time to use them.

  
  


Hubert cast aside the heap of bloodied cloth that he’d coiled around Ferdinand’s leg and went to work removing his ruined slacks. Though he knew that it was foolish to think such a way, Hubert couldn’t help noticing how much of a test of his self-control this would be. He told himself firmly to keep his mind on the bloody issue at hand.

  
  


The wound was relatively clean, likely from a knife or shard of glass. Hubert was grateful for the morning sun; if this had come from a claw, things would have been far uglier.

  
  


“Hold still,” Hubert said, shoving Ferdinand’s knee flat to the floor. “Squirming will only make the bleeding worse.”

  
  


“I’ll try,” whined Ferdinand.

  
  


In an attempt to assist with the wriggling, Hubert put his weight on Ferdinand’s knee to keep the limb straight as he cleaned the area around the wound. His hands were still trembling like nothing else. He’d never had a problem with blood, but something about seeing it come out of  _him_ made him mentally plead for it to just stop. It felt as though there was precious, irreplaceable liquid flooding the bathroom floor, even though he knew that that wasn’t the case at all.

  
  


Hubert had to fill the silence. The sound of Ferdinand’s labored breathing was driving him mad. “I truly thought I had lost you many times today. You’ve been quite the cause of stress; you ought to be less reckless.”

  
  


Ferdinand’s pained expression melted for just a second, giving way for a seemingly impossible grin. “You care about me, then?”

  
  


Hubert snorted, nearly dropping the alcohol-soaked rag in his hand. He wanted to deny it, but he knew that even he wasn’t able to lie through this nervousness. “It appears as though you’ve tricked me into something resembling that, yes.”

  
  


“Hey, Hubert?”

  
  


“Yes?” The direction of this conversation put him ill at ease.

  
  


“Pardon my language, but please take those damned gloves off before you stitch me up.”

  
  


“Ah. Yes.” Hubert had been so worked up that he’d gone to work without thinking for a second about his filthy gloves. He was hesitant to take them off, as it would be truly despicable to touch bare legs with bare hands. No, no, there wasn’t time to worry about that now. This was what the desensitization was for.

  
  


But repeating that sentiment in his head didn’t lessen the tickling of the little ginger hairs as he prepped the area. Every brush near the hem of h is undergarments made Hubert feel as though he was going to pass out. There was nothing to cool him down with even the tile of the floor pushing warmth into his knees.

  
  


As he hooked a thread through the suturing needle, Hubert focused as intently as he possibly could. This was not that big of a deal. He was sewing up the wound of some anonymous being who just happened to have soft, freckled skin and an enticing floral scent. No one important. No one he cared about.

  
  


But he couldn’t deny the sound of Ferdinand’s voice, pleading and small. “Hubert, may I hold onto you?”

  
  


“I. Um.” Hubert shook the clouds from his head. “My hands are occupied.”

  
  


“Your shoulder, then. Something.” Ferdinand’s eyes were shimmering with a thin layer of tears. “Please, I know this is going to hurt terribly.”

  
  


Hubert swallowed, something that was starting to prove difficult. “Fine. My shoulder.”

  
  


The pressure of Ferdinand’s fingers on his shoulder as he started suturing actually worked to ground him somewhat. As long as that grip stayed snug, he had something to focus on that wasn’t deeply unhealthy. He knew he had to do a good job at this; the idea of having to go back and redo even a single stitch killed him.

  
  


Hubert was nearing the end of the wound when a particularly painful stick moved Ferdinand to shift his grip suddenly. Specifically, Ferdinand was now clutching Hubert’s hair in a way that invoked a far different situation. Any focus left was dashed as imagination ran wild. Though he tried to finish the stitch, Ferdinand just kept yanking, leaving nowhere left in Hubert’s mind that was safe from his debaucherous thoughts.  This mess of hair-pulling and whining would most certainly be exactly what it would be like to partake in the absolute mouthful that he’d been trying hard not to look at.

  
  


This was absurd. Hubert had a job to do. “Ferdinand,” he huffed, unable to find a version of his voice that didn’t betray his tension. “Your hand,  _please_ .”

  
  


“Sorry!” Ferdinand snatched his hand back and balled it in a fist on his chest. “I—I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

  
  


Hubert said nothing. He just swallowed and finished his stitching as best as his quaking hands would allow. Before, he wanted words to fill the space, but now he was concerned that if he said anything, he would betray the nature of his thoughts.  How disgusted Ferdinand would be if he could see into his mind. If only he could get this all out of his system, as if that were an option. All that he would get to help with this is a shameful session with himself late into the night when he couldn’t sleep.

  
  


The bandaging job was somewhat slap-dash, but Hubert cared more about it being done. The heat, from within and without, was getting to him, making his forehead sweat and his mouth water. He felt like a starving hound that had to watch someone dining on a beautiful steak. It was a wonder his self-restraint was still present at all.

  
  


“There,” Hubert snipped as he settled the bandage. “Now, go. You will change the bandages tonight before bed.”

  
  


“There are the bedside manners I so adore,” jeered Ferdinand weakly. “Help me up, please.”

  
  


It was a miracle that Hubert hadn’t collapsed himself, but somehow he managed to offer a hand to Ferdinand as he creaked up off of the floor. As soon as he was standing, Hubert tried to remove himself, but of course the bastard had to linger, obliviously clutching Hubert’s hand.

  
  


“Hubert, really,” said Ferdinand, his voice softened by exhaustion, “thank you.”

  
  


“No need,” Hubert muttered as he tried to remove his hand. “Part of my job is to keep you from bleeding out.”

  
  


“Yes, well.” Ferdinand scratched the back of his neck. “Thank you for helping with  _all_ of this. Though I’m disappointed we didn’t get what we set out for, I’m sure we’ll find Flayn eventually. I won’t lose hope, and neither should you.”

  
  


Hubert had been wrestling with Ferdinand’s pain for the past hour with questionable results, but this particular type of pain was enough to make him want to give up entirely. He already felt guilty enough about objectifying Ferdinand and pining over him; it hurt ever further to be reminded that he was also manipulating him, intentionally or not.

  
  


“You should leave, Ferdinand.” Hubert looked at his feet. “Go and rest. Please.”

  
  


“But--”

  
  


“Get. Out.”

  
  


Ferdinand visibly deflated. “Fine.”


	17. Act 2 Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert has a disagreement with Edelgard and chooses to vent his frustrations in a rather reckless way.

The day crept by as Ferdinand rested, Edelgard shut herself in her room, and Hubert tried fruitlessly to study the materials he’d gathered from their outing. He wished that he could busy himself with something more involved, like fixing his weapons, but there weren’t enough supplies around the house for him to use, and the idea of asking Ferdinand about anything right now was terrifying.

  
  


With nothing practical to do and a jitter in his bones started by the too-close encounter with Ferdinand, Hubert made the call to sample some of the extravagant booze that lay in the house. He wouldn’t allow himself to drink to the point of impairing his judgment, no. Just enough to make his insides feel warm and calm.

  
  


Underneath that warmth, however, sat the inescapable cloud of his guilt. The lies he’d told Ferdinand, every single one of them, were playing on repeat in his head, and, while he could rationalize that they were all for the purpose of helping him and Edelgard, he wondered if that was still the case now. Hubert knew from experience that to keep a lie in the open air for too long was a dangerous practice that would turn simple omissions into tangled webs trapping both the liar and the deceived. And he also knew that, after all of the suffering and tangling, either the lie would die or the truth would come out. He could tell which kind he was facing now.

  
  


Despite his growing ever more confident that revealing the truth was the best move, Hubert knew that he wouldn’t be able to make that call on his own. Setting aside his glass, he paid Edelgard a visit. As he approached her room, he crept past Ferdinand’s room like a student skipping class in the halls, somehow confident that Ferdinand would sense his presence and catch him. He made a note to himself to keep his voice down, as the rooms were close and Edelgard had already mentioned how sound carries between the two.

  
  


“Hubert.” Edelgard addressed him stiffly when she reached the door. “I didn’t expect you.”

  
  


“I wish to talk,” said Hubert barely above a whisper. “May I?”

  
  


Edelgard furrowed her brow and peered past him into the hall. Hubert was sure that his trepidation made him appear as though he were being pursued by more than just his own rampant feelings.

  
  


“Come in,” said Edelgard after a moment. She led him in and seated herself on her bed, ankles crossed, as Hubert stood. “What do you need?”

  
  


Hubert searched for a way to start the conversation, taking in the room all the while. In the folds of her comforter were documents, presumably for work, and her cell phone, open and face-down. “I apologize,” Hubert muttered. “Were you in a call?” She certainly didn’t look business-ready in her patterned pajamas, but such was the benefit of remote work.

  
  


“Oh.” Edelgard frowned. “I was talking with Lysithea. I have her on hold. What is your business?”

  
  


Hubert took another look at the papers on her bed and realized that they were photocopied pages of Lysithea’s legal work. Edelgard was still busying herself with this, now, out here? Hubert was frustrated, but he swallowed back the anger to speak about the issue at hand. He took in a long breath before telling her his fears about the lies, and his certainty that they were digging a hole that they wouldn’t be able to get out of so easily. All the while, Edelgard tapped her foot and glanced back at her phone.

  
  


“So,” she said when he finished his explanation. “What are you trying to suggest?”

  
  


Hubert winced. She already disapproved. “I think that we should tell Ferdinand the truth.”

  
  


“We aren’t going to do that.”

  
  


Silence followed as Hubert waited for her to elaborate, but nothing came. His heart throbbed with anxiety; this sort of tension was why he was always so frightened to confront her about disagreements. “Why not?”

  
  


“ We have no reason to.” When Hubert moved to object, she shut him down. “All of those things you brought up only matter if, at some point, he discovers the truth. You would go so far as to invite that?”

  
  


“It would be far more manageable now than in the middle of combat when he finds out on his own.” Hubert wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. He hadn’t realized until now that he’d left behind his gloves. “This is simple damage control.”

  
  


Edelgard cocked her head. “What makes you so sure that he will find the truth on his own?” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, studying Hubert. “I seem to recall you saying on multiple occasions that he’s too foolish for his own good.”

  
  


“This is also the man who assumed that I was a vampire due to his own independent research and overactive imagination. If we don’t give him a conclusion, he will find one.”

  
  


“ The simple fact is that as long as Ferdinand believes his dear Flayn to be available somewhere, vulnerable and waiting to be rescued, he will be willing to follow us to the ends of the earth.” Edelgard shrugged. “I have no interest in sacrificing that for the sake of damage control.”

  
  


Hubert balked at her openness. “But that kind of false loyalty--”

  
  


“This conversation is over, Hubert. We will not tell him.”

  
  


When Hubert lingered, trying to formulate a counter argument, she waved him coldly out of the room. He didn’t have it in him to fight her. He shut the door a little to hard behind him on the way out.

  
  


Alone, frustrated, and dejected, Hubert eyed the door to Ferdinand’s room. This wouldn’t be the first time that he went behind her back, and it wouldn’t be the last. If she was going to be angry either way, then…

  
  


By the time he realized what he was doing, he had already barged into Ferdinand’s room. His emotions were running hot through his veins, setting him on end and making him nearly leap out of his skin when Ferdinand reacted to his entrance. From where he lounged in bed, leg propped on a stack of squishy pillows, he clapped shut a softcover book and stuffed it under the covers with a startled blush.

  
  


“Hubert!” Ferdinand cleared his throat and combed a hand through his hair. “Are you… here to help me with my bandages?”

  
  


Hubert’s mouth hung half open. He wasn’t even sure what his plan was, but he knew that his feelings from earlier had not had time to settle down, and this was only fanning the embers. Tensely, Hubert nodded, grateful not to have to come up with his own excuse to see Ferdinand in his silken pajamas.

  
  


“Wonderful. Come in, come in. I was expecting to have to deal with them myself, so your help is appreciated.”

  
  


Hubert shut the door behind him softly and padded inside. He was truly walking into the lion’s den. “Might we, ah, take this into the restroom?”

  
  


Ferdinand gave a dramatic pout. “ You’re saying I must get up?”

  
  


“Do you want blood on your sheets?”

  
  


“Very well,” sighed Ferdinand with a soft chuckle. The sound ricocheted around in Hubert’s head incessantly. Everything was hitting him differently now. Maybe it was the drink from earlier.

  
  


Ferdinand led the way into his bathroom and flipped on the lights, along with those damned floors. As if Hubert wasn’t warm enough as it was.  As Ferdinand propped himself on the edge of the bathtub with his leg outstretched, Hubert uncoiled a length of bandages from the cabinet. He knelt next to Ferdinand, who was carefully trying to hike the leg of his pants up over the existing dressing.

  
  


“You needn’t be so bashful,”  said Hubert, reaching for the silken drawstring. “ It would be far easier to just--”

  
  


“Ah, Hubert.” Ferdinand removed Hubert’s hand and hastily retied the string. “I apologize for my crudeness, but, uh.” His face was blazing red. “I am not… wearing anything underneath.”

  
  


“Oh.”

  
  


Ferdinand crinkled his brows. “I did not think  I would be receiving visitors this evening, and the hem was interfering with the bandages, I--”

  
  


“Calm down,” said Hubert, his voice betraying his own lack of calm. “I do not need to hear any further words about your undergarments.”

  
  


“Right, yes. Sorry.” Ferdinand tucked the fabric of his pant leg into place, revealing the bandaging. Hubert’s gaze threatened to wander, to theorize about what lay beyond the thin barrier of cloth. But he knew that he couldn’t allow himself to look too closely.

  
  


Hubert released a breath a when the soiled bandages were off. “There’s only a little bit of swelling,” he remarked, prodding the skin experimentally. “That is good. If you’re gentle, it will heal with barely a scar.”

  
  


Ferdinand visibly relaxed as he extended his leg further to allow Hubert to wrap the new bandage. “That’s a relief to hear.”

  
  


Hubert considered the soft, freckled skin of Ferdinand’s leg as he worked. Without the hectic pressure of blood loss, this encounter was far, far more pressing on Hubert’s filthy urges. He found himself searching for something to talk about, some way do distract himself, but there was nothing to say. Nothing, at least, that wouldn’t mean going against Edelgard’s wishes.

  
  


With nothing else on his mind except for that and things to inappropriate to say, Hubert blurted, “Ferdinand, I need to tell you something.”

  
  


“Yes?” Ferdinand was far too excited by such a vague opening.

  
  


“It is… about Flayn.”

  
  


“Oh.” Ferdinand sagged. It was well beyond Hubert’s imagination what he could have been waiting to hear. “I think I can guess where this is going,” said Ferdinand at length. “I’m… not going to find her, am I?”

  
  


Hubert simply nodded at that, lip bit as he fastened the bandages in place.

  
  


“I understand,” said Ferdinand. “You didn’t want me to hurt. I’m just glad that yo u cared enough to make such a decision, and that you’re mature enough to own up to it.”

  
  


He was giving Hubert far too much credit. He stayed quiet for a moment as he unbunched the fabric at Ferdinand’s hip, carefully and slowly tugging it over the bandages. Still, as much as it pained him, the silence was starting to hurt even more, so Hubert forced himself to speak further: “I think you’ll find that the situation is somewhat more complicated than--”

  
  


“It is okay, Hubert.” Ferdinand was placing a hand on Hubert’s shoulder and looking at him with the most gentle of gazes. It hadn’t occurred to Hubert how badly he’d been in need of such compassion, even if he hadn’t earned it. “It’s sad, but I will be okay. And, with you around, I may just recover from it all.”

  
  


With him around? The words and the contact were sending uncomfortable heat through Hubert’s body. How could he say such a thing so innocently? What did he know? Hubert hadn’t even told him the full truth; he didn’t deserve to be treated like this. The fabric of Ferdinand’s pants was balling up in Hubert’s tightening fist.

  
  


“Are you okay, Hubert?”

  
  


Hubert didn’t have anything to say. He was stuck staring at the wide eyes in front of him, the soft, soft face. He knew exactly what he  _wanted_ to do, but he could never do it. He couldn’t rock the boat, couldn’t anger Edelgard and put himself at risk of being rejected by Ferdinand, of all people. The consequences for such a thing would be impossible to escape.

  
  


Except, Hubert caught himself rationalizing. Edelgard would already be upset for this conversation happening, and Ferdinand had readily forgiven him for half of a lie. And this opportunity seemed so bright, and…

  
  


Oh, and Ferdinand’s lips were  _so soft_ .

  
  


As suddenly as he’d moved in, Hubert yanked himself back. All that he needed to know was reflected in Ferdinand’s stunned expression. He’d overstepped, misread the situation. Hubert clenched his jaw and untangled his hand from Ferdinand’s pants, searching for some kind of way to explain what he’d done that didn’t involve admitting his desperation.

  
  


A hand took Hubert’s collar and stopped him firm. “Are you _running away_ , Hubert? I didn’t think you the sort.”

  
  


Hubert opened his mouth to  explain , but it was shut clumsily when Ferdinand plowed headlong into him, clinging to his collar to hold himself just off of the edge of the tub. In the daze that followed the impact, Hubert had to fight to release himself from Ferdinand’s lips and drop back onto his knees so that Ferdinand could sit back down. 

  
  


The landing onto the tub was a rough one this time, and Ferdinand parted his lips to make a slight, pained noise as he settled back in. Hubert opportunistically moved into the space with his tongue,  hungry to know how Ferdinand tasted. But Ferdinand pulled back, chuckling, from the kiss, leaving Hubert growling with frustration into the heated space where their breaths gathered.

  
  


“Eager, are we?” puffed Ferdinand.

  
  


The cheeky expression made Hubert grind his teeth. “Can you blame me?” He lunged once more for Ferdinand’s mouth, but Ferdinand was still on the defensive, and the most that he got was a chaste, pursed kiss. “What, are you scared? I didn’t think you the  _sort_ ,” he parroted Ferdinand’s snooty smugness.

  
  


Ferdinand grimaced. “Maybe I am, just a little bit.”

  
  


“This isn’t, erm, your first…?”

  
  


“No, no.” Ferdinand laughed  once more , and the tension dissipated the slightest bit. “I just… haven’t felt this way in a long time.”

  
  


Hubert sat back on his heels, his toes burning up on the warmed tile. “What about, um.”

  
  


“Flayn?” Ferdinand shook his head. “We only kissed. I suppose I thought that I would have more time.”

  
  


Hubert had to admit that he was only slightly paying attention  a s Ferdinand spoke; he was  busy getting lost in the silky folds of Ferdinand’s pants, running his hands up and down those soft  legs . He could feel Ferdinand tense whenever he trailed too high, too close. When Hubert pressed an experimental thumb into Ferdinand’s inner thigh, he earned himself a high-pitched yelp.

  
  


“You’re certainly behaving as though this is your first time,” observed Hubert, leaning in  and sliding a hand onto Ferdinand’s waist, up underneath his shirt.

  
  


“Ah, wait, Hubert!” Ferdinand squirmed under the touch, and Hubert had to pull him forward to keep him from falling off. “It isn’t, oh, you  _know_ . I just haven’t ever gone so  _fast_ with someone before.”

  
  


“Fast?” Hubert clicked his tongue. “It isn’t as though I met you yesterday.” He decided to let his hands rest on Ferdinand’s arms, where he hoped that they wouldn’t cause any more scares; no matter how endearing they were, it was growing tiresome, as was the aching in his pelvis.

  
  


Ferdinand bit his lip, as though  _that_ were going to encourage Hubert to slow down. “I know, but. I didn’t know that you were going to act on your feelings until, well, until just now.”

  
  


Hubert blinked. His  _feelings_ ? He didn’t recall ever putting such things on display. Sure, he’d gotten too carried away at times in the past, but he’d made such an effort to keep those times entirely within his mind, to the best of his abilities. When had Ferdinand managed to figure out the true nature of his thoughts? Surely he was jumping to conclusions; he had no  _feelings_ that resembled anything other than simple lust, anyway.

  
  


Hubert didn’t have the brain capacity  to pursue such questions; he was far too caught up in the frustration that was growing with the potential revelation that he wouldn’t get what he wanted. Every molecule in his body was complaining at him for sitting so still, for not taking part in what was in front of him. How could he just stare? Ferdinand’s lips had already taken a pinkish tinge from their kissing, and the thin, silken pants were leaving  _nothing_ to the imagination. 

  
  


The gap that Ferdinand hat put between them was growing smaller. Perhaps Hubert’s hungry eyes were starting to get to him. When Hubert tried once more to let his hands investigate Ferdinand’s body, there was less fear. He even managed to get in a couple of small kisses, but they were still stiff. He could tell that Ferdinand was sharing his anticipation, from his dilated eyes to the strain in his pants, but he was holding himself back, still.

  
  


“Do you still want this?” Hubert whispered, pressing between Ferdinand’s legs.

  
  


The motion must have worked, because as soon as Hubert found purchase, Ferdinand let out a breathless, “ _yes_ ,” before Hubert could finish his question. 

  
  


Hubert moved in before the hesitation could return, all tongue and hands and frantic energy. He  was starting to question why he’d held himself back so much; if this was all that he needed to get this damned fixation out of his system, he should have done it earlier. If only he’d known that Ferdinand wasn’t disgusted by the idea. Hearing that  _yes_ was the last blow needed to shatter the dam that had been holding back his desires. There was nothing left to stop him, no boundaries keeping him from fulfilling those wretched fantasies of his.

  
  


And yet, he was thrown off by Ferdinand’s softness. The smiles against his lips, the hand at the small of his back, the kisses that weren’t led by tongue, and worst of all, that heat below Hubert’s legs. He was already embarrassed enough by the way that Ferdinand seemed to want to treat him like a princess, even going so far as to kiss his hands when his mouth wasn’t occupied. The hot flush from such behavior was combining horribly with the warmth all around, and Hubert couldn’t take it.

  
  


“Let’s go to the bed,” Hubert mumbled against Ferdinand’s jaw, hands halfway under his shirt.

  
  


“My, my,” cooed Ferdinand. He put a hand on Hubert’s face and Hubert’s first instinct was to flinch away. “Such a bold request.”

  
  


Hubert settled his trembling hands by clutching the tub’s edge. He was going to go insane if he stayed in this uncanny warmth a moment longer. He just wanted to satisfy his desires as simply and as easily as possible. “I do not… want you to be uncomfortable. With your leg.”

  
  


“Aren’t we the gentleman?” said Ferdinand. Why did he have to be so coy now? “Help me up.”

  
  


Hubert hooked an arm around Ferdinand and helped him across the room as swiftly as he could. He was being driven even more mad by the way that Ferdinand’s fingers played in the hairs on the back of his neck, tickling him and amplifying the ever-growing heat. By the time Hubert reached the bed, he all but flung Ferdinand onto it, too impatient to be gentle.  When Hubert slung himself on after Ferdinand, he realized how much that ungraceful landing had made him wince, and couldn’t help feeling a little guilty.

  
  


Hubert allowed Ferdinand one simple, tongueless kiss for that. “Apologies,” Hubert grumbled. “I shouldn’t be further injuring my colleague.”

  
  


“ _Colleague_ , huh?” Ferdinand hissed as he pushed himself into a sitting position, stuffing pillows behind his back to prop himself on the headboard. “Well, for the record, I don’t blame you for my being hurt. You did try to warn me.”

  
  


Hubert was fine to let Ferdinand keep rambling. Once Ferdinand was settled in fully, Hubert hastily straddled him and let his lips venture across Ferdinand’s throat. How sweet those freckles tasted.

  
  


“Damn me,” puffed Ferdinand, letting his head fall back to allow Hubert more access. “Damn this leg. If not for it, I swear I would be doing any number of unspeakable things for you. If you wanted, that is.” As he spoke, Hubert followed the bobbing of his adam’s apple with his tongue.

  
  


“Unspeakable things, you say?” Hubert hummed as he tested his range of safe movement on Ferdinand’s lap. “ What might those be?”

  
  


“I think, perhaps, you’re failing to understand the  _unspeakable_ part.” The way that Ferdinand so hastily backed off from his sudden burst of boldness made Hubert sigh, both amused and frustrated.

  
  


“If you wish to do any of those  _things_ when you are well, you will need to learn how to vocalize them,” said Hubert, more actively seeking friction with his hips as he searched for all of the freckles on Ferdinand’s neck.

  
  


“In that case,” sighed Ferdinand, hands sliding down Hubert’s back, “you will simply have to hold your breath until next time. I must leave… something to the imagination.”

  
  


_Next time._ Hubert hadn’t even realized through his lustful haze that he’d propositioned Ferdinand for  _more_ sex, when he recovers.  He didn’t  _hate_ the idea, should this night not be enough to rid himself of his fixation. 

  
  


“It wouldn’t hurt,” said Hubert airily into Ferdinand’s ear, “to tell me just  _one_ thing. Something to whet my appetite.”

  
  


Ferdinand hissed at a particularly rough movement on Hubert’s part. Hubert paused, worried that he’d aggravated the damage, but the way Ferdinand grabbed onto his hips told him that he’d actually been rather successful.  He tried the same move again, and Ferdinand gave a sigh this time.

  
  


“Okay,” murmured Ferdinand. “One thing.  I’ll bring you back here, on a weekend that we can be all alone. And… and we can split a bottle of my nicest champagne, I’ll make you dinner—something the both of us will like—and we can--”

  
  


“I’ve yet to hear anything  _unspeakable_ ,” muttered Hubert. He experimented further with his grinding in his boredom. The sighs were starting to turn into hums, and into moans.

  
  


Ferdinand bit his knuckle, a blush prominent across his face. “I, ah, suppose I got carried away with—ah! Hubert, be  _careful_ .” He arched his back and put his hands to his mouth when Hubert found his way underneath his clothes. The sudden glissando that had  tinged Ferdinand’s words was enough to drive Hubert mad.

  
  


“Hubert, please,” whined Ferdinand, his words losing their clarity with each passing moment. “Edelgard is the next room over; we wouldn’t, ah, want her thinking that we’re up to no good.”

  
  


Hubert sighed. Despite his efforts to distract, once Ferdinand had gotten started talking, there was no stopping him. “Let her think,” Hubert muttered.

  
  


“ What? Wait, why?” Ferdinand watched Hubert with wide eyes.

  
  


“Because we  _are_ ,” Hubert said as he swept aside Ferdinand’s waves so that he could sink his teeth  further into Ferdinand’s neck.

  
  


“Oh, ah, I guess we are…” breathed Ferdinand, and finally,  _finally_ , his words melted away when Hubert took claim over his throat.  Hubert delighted in the way that the freckled skin gave way under his mouth, taking kindly to the bruises that he left in his wake. It was no surprise that he was concerned about Edelgard’s hearing them, because Ferdinand was  _loud_ . Every bite, every roll of the hips garnered a groan, whimper, yelp, or whine. Being right in his ear, Hubert should have found the sounds obnoxious, but all they did was spurn him further.

  
  


That was, until one of those keening whines started to take the form of Hubert’s name. Immediately, Hubert moved to cut him off with a sloppy, tongue-forward kiss and a shove against the headboard, his heart rate skyrocketing at the mere thought of such a use of Ferdinand’s voice. He was sure that if he’d heard the whole thing, his heart would have clawed its way out of his chest from sheer embarrassment.

  
  


Hubert took it upon himself to disrobe Ferdinand as efficiently as possible, careful to pause and take his time with the pants as they passed the bandages. He hopped back into Ferdinand’s lap, taking him in his hand, stroking slowly to really appreciate the new feeling. He thrilled with this newfound line directly to Ferdinand’s state, pleased to experiment with what made him come the most alive. He earned a particularly stellar reaction when he attacked Ferdinand’s earlobe, a prideful swell in his chest as Ferdinand twitched against him. He flicked his tongue across a divot in the lobe where Ferdinand’s ear had once been pierced, which had since closed up into a shallow scar.

  
  


That Hubert was able to uncover secrets like that with no more than his mouth was exhilarating. He needed more. He had so many questions about Ferdinand that could finally be answered.  Hubert wondered what he should ask for, knowing that there would only be so many things possible in one night.

  
  


Ferdinand beat him to the punch with his own request, however: “I want to be inside of you so  _bad_ .” His fingers dug into Hubert’s back.

  
  


Hubert shuddered. That was far more forward than he was prepared for. “I… inside of  _me_ , huh?”

  
  


“Please, Hubert,” Ferdinand sighed.

  
  


There was that heart-crawling moment. As if the begging wasn’t bad enough. Hubert wanted to hide from his own delight.  Instead, he buried his face into Ferdinand’s shoulder and sought a way to give Ferdinand what he asked for without shifting too far off mark. If he could just lift up a little bit… but that made Ferdinand tense up. Then, he tried shifting further forward, but that didn’t work much better.

  
  


Hubert was almost able to find a workable arrangement when Ferdinand stopped him. “Hubert, I know you’re not stupid,” he grumbled. “I certainly don’t want to do anything  _dry_ .”

  
  


Hubert grimaced. “I know,” he said. “I… hate to say it, but I don’t think we should.  With your leg, it’s… difficult.”

  
  


“I want to at least  _try_ ,” whimpered Ferdinand.

  
  


“What do you think I’ve been doing? I can tell you’re hurting.” Hubert bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything more  _nice_ than that. It was proving difficult to be cold to Ferdinand while he was naked and vulnerable. “As your de facto physician, I cannot put your injury at risk,” he said, as bluntly as possible.

  
  


Ferdinand pouted, and Hubert couldn’t resist the compulsion to kiss the frown away. This one tasted sweeter than the others, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. When they parted once more, Ferdinand breathed, “okay. Next time, then?”

  
  


Hubert swallowed. “Next time.”

  
  


Ferdinand smiled at that, and busied his hands with getting Hubert to the same level of nudity as himself.  Newly exposed, Hubert couldn’t resist the embarrassment that pulled his eyes away. He let them fall shut at Ferdinand’s exceptionally soft touch, which was getting a stronger reaction than either of them seemed to expect. Hubert had to bite down on Ferdinand’s shoulder when he made an especially dreadful noise, entirely beyond the control of his usually obedient vocal cords.

  
  


“You’re sensitive,” observed Ferdinand obviously when Hubert reached down to stay his hand.

  
  


“I feel like I’ve had blue balls for the past…  god, two months or so,” Hubert muttered.

  
  


Ferdinand chuckled, trailing a ticklishly light finger up and down Hubert’s back. “Well, now I feel especially bad about being downed. I ought to give you  _something_ good.” He took hold of  Hubert’s behind and directed him to scoot forward. “If you stand over me, I might be able to, er, use my mouth.” Towards the end of his sentence, he started to have a visibly difficult time getting the words out. 

  
  


It took some awkwardness to get into place, but Hubert managed to position himself about how Ferdinand described, giving him easy enough access, so long as Hubert kept his knees locked.  When satisfied with the arrangement, Ferdinand planted an overly sweet kiss to Hubert’s pelvis and went right back to setting him off with ticklish, feather-light touches.

  
  


“What happened to your mouth?” Hubert grumbled.

  
  


A puff of breath crossed Hubert’s hip. Ferdinand was having far too much fun. “Say,” mused Ferdinand, his voice coy, “didn’t we meet two months ago? Were you saying it was love at first—mpgh?”

  
  


Hubert was already impatient, so he had no problem intercepting Ferdinand’s mouth and giving him no room to finish that statement. For a second, he worried about the potential consequences of cutting him off so crudely, but Ferdinand took it in stride, and the fright in Hubert’s chest melted quickly into pleasure. Oh, how the awkward positioning was worth it.

  
  


Hubert found himself taking a particular interest in Ferdinand’s hair, soft and inviting under his fingertips. He’d coveted those locks for so long, and the freedom to do what he wished with them didn’t disappoint. He was combing through the curls enough times to turn his fingers numb before he tensed and pulled, hard, on them when he started growing close to his edge. Though Ferdinand responded well enough to the initial tug, humming in the back of his throat approvingly, the next pull sent him a little too far into Hubert’s pelvis, and he broke away with a grimace.

  
  


“ Apologies,” Hubert breathed, trembling.

  
  


“I just need a second,” said Ferdinand, breath still tickling Hubert. “You felt close.”

  
  


“I was.”

  
  


“In that case.” Ferdinand thoughtfully pressed his thumb to Hubert, nearly causing his legs to buckle. “It’s my turn next,” he murmured before diving back in and giving Hubert the greatest sensory overload he’d experienced in years. By the time he was finished, Hubert had to yank Ferdinand off so that he could safely collapse.

  
  


In turn, Ferdinand was quick to satisfy after all of the buildup and failed starts. And he was still so  _loud_ , all the way to the end. The whole event left Hubert so exhausted that he wondered if it would even be worth having sex ever again in his natural life. Though Ferdinand voiced his concerns about letting all of the mess stay on his sheets overnight, Hubert was far too far along the way to sleep to bother doing anything, and Ferdinand eventually gave up, as well.

  
  


Though Ferdinand tried to keep contact when the two of them drifted off, Hubert took advantage of the massive bed and Ferdinand’s low mobility to wriggle out from under his hands a number of times. He didn’t need any  _cuddling_ . He was perfectly, wonderfully satisfied.  He considered even leaving to sleep in his own room to keep from rolling into Ferdinand’s space overnight, but it was hard to keep himself from dozing off in the wreath of floral scents that buried Ferdinand’s room, which mingled strangely well with the smell of sex.

  
  


By the time Hubert realized that he’d since fallen asleep, it was because he was being woken in the dead of night by Ferdinand, who had been resting all day and apparently wasn’t in need of a full night’s sleep. Hubert was irritated to be woken, but the irritation dissipated when he realized that Ferdinand was propositioning him for another round. Sure, he was satisfied, but one more wouldn’t  _hurt_ .

  
  


So, he saw no issue with graciously accepting. And accepting once again when Ferdinand coaxed him awake at dawn with more unexpected stimulation. Ferdinand truly had a way with him; Hubert had assumed that his capability to start back up so many times in one night had been all but gone when he'd said goodbye to his twenties.

  
  


And, as long as it was all in one night, it didn’t matter too much that he kept saying yes, did it?

  
  


When morning proper came, Hubert lingered in bed later than he ever had. He wasn’t still tired, but the bed was still warm, still so inviting. He only managed to crawl out when Ferdinand saw himself to the bathroom for an extended shower and Hubert started to grow tired of making eye contact with the generically attractive white man on the cover of the romance novel on the carpet. If he didn’t leave then, he was worried that he would never be able to.

  
  



	18. Act 2 Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we're cooking with mutual self-sabotage! Did you truly think that them hooking up at last would be the end of it?

Hubert’s initial intention was to slip from Ferdinand’s room into his own as quickly as possible so that he could realign himself and prepare for the awkward drive back to the city. However, when Hubert emerged into the hall, he was drawn downstairs by his nose. Breakfast was calling for him, and his stomach was empty from his late start.

  
  


The cook of this most tempting breakfast was Edelgard. She loomed like an omen over the stove, and Hubert considered retreating before she noticed his presence and waved him over. He couldn’t read whether she was angry. Would he be able to stand his ground if she questioned him, or would he make excuses? He hated being in this state where he didn’t even know what to expect from himself.

  
  


As Hubert seated himself at the granite island, there was no wrath or questioning. Edelgard simply put a plate of eggs in front of him with a perfectly neutral “good morning.” Unless her goal was to spite him with her overdone scramble, there was no evidence that she harbored any ill will. Though Hubert was relieved, he hated to admit that he was disappointed. What use was his rebellious sex if it didn’t infuriate her?

  
  


“Edelgard, I…” he trailed off with a sigh. There wasn’t really anything to _say_ about last night. She was smart enough to figure out what he’d done, and he wasn’t going to apologize. He wished he had the words to ask her whether this breakfast was a peace offering or a threat. “What is the purpose of this?”

  
  


She shrugged. “I thought that you wouldn’t be getting breakfast yourself.” Though Hubert searched for the bitterness in her voice, she was as matter-of-fact as usual. “ Eat. You may have gotten out of cooking, but I still expect you to drive us home.”

  
  


“Of course.” Hubert stuffed down the mediocre eggs, vaguely aware of the fact that he still smelled like sex and  _looked_ like it, too. Maybe he should have turned down that final round.

  
  


She settled in with her own food, setting aside a covered plate for Ferdinand. After some quiet, she finally broached  _one_ of the coupling of elephants in the kitchen. “So, are we expecting  _you and Ferdinand_ to stay here, or…?”

  
  


Hubert searched her for an indication towards what answer she wanted to hear. Her eyes were too cold to read, so he defaulted to the easiest answer: the truth. “That is going to be the case, yes. It was… simple stress relief.”

  
  


“Noted. I’ll admit, I didn’t think Ferdinand capable of such an agreement.” Edelgard chuckled, and gave Derick a pat as he trotted past their feet in search of falling food. “He was always pretty all-or-nothing with school romances. If he were to sleep with someone, it may as well have been a marriage proposal. Good to know he’s learned some nuance.”

  
  


Oh. Oh, no. Every word of that was an assault. It should have been obvious; Ferdinand was so intensely idealistic, there was no way he wouldn’t approach relationships with the same energy as all things. His fears about moving  _too fast_ should have been warning enough. 

  
  


“Is that so,” said Hubert as though he was trying out the concept of casualness for the first time in his life. “Well, good for him, if he’s grown.”

  
  


Hubert was beset with quiet for another stretch. Awkward, sticky quiet. He was in a difficult position with both of his comrades; Edelgard did not know how much Ferdinand was told last night, and Ferdinand was still in the dark about the full truth. Hubert couldn’t tell if he regretted the omission or not. He’d certainly managed to pick the right arrangement of words to get what he wanted.

  
  


Perhaps the  rest of the truth would come out and work in Hubert’s favor. If Ferdinand found out that Hubert was still deceiving him, perhaps he wouldn’t seek out a relationship with him, or  _matrimony_ , like Edelgard suggested. That would only be assuming that F erdinand hadn’t actually grown past that kind of thinking.

  
  


“Good morning, all!” Ferdinand’s chipper voice sounded from behind. Hubert tried and failed to hide how startled he was. “I see we’ve already started breakfast! Apologies for my late start.”

  
  


“Don’t worry,” said Edelgard charitably. She was looking past Hubert, but she betrayed nothing as to what she saw that he could not.

  
  


So, Hubert was caught completely off-guard when Ferdinand hooked around from behind him to kiss him firmly on the lips. It wasn’t until he pulled away and saw the slack-jawed expressions of both Hubert and Edelgard that he seemed to realize that he’d done something unexpected. He leaned back over Hubert and whispered, “tell me, you weren’t actually  _cheating_ on Edelgard last night?”

  
  


Hubert reeled. “ _What_ ? No.”

  
  


“Wait, that means that I just kissed you in front of your  _ex_ , then.” Ferdinand put a finger to his chin and shot a glance in Edelgard’s direction. “Oh, dear, that isn’t much better, is it? That was very rude of me. I’m sorry--”

  
  


“Ferdinand.” Hubert grabbed Ferdinand’s shoulder with taut fingers. “I have never been romantically involved with Edelgard.”

  
  


“Oh. Huh.” The gears turning in Ferdinand’s head were visible in his crinkled expression. “ Well, if that’s the case, there must not be a problem, right? If you do not wish to be open about our love in public, that’s one thing, but Edelgard is hardly--”

  
  


“Eat your breakfast, Ferdinand,” snapped Hubert, flushed and entirely aware of Edelgard’s stare. “We will talk another time.”

  
  


Fortunately, Ferdinand wasn’t entirely illiterate in the art of room reading, so he responded to Hubert’s insistence to lay off. There wasn’t another word between anyone as breakfast wrapped up, all while Hubert struggled not to overheat. He could tell how disappointed Edelgard was in him. Not mad, certainly not mad. But disappointed that he would even try to lie about something so obviously foolish. Ferdinand, on the other hand, was most certainly mad at him. Could he really be upset about Hubert’s response to the use of the word  _love_ in casual conversation after they’d spent  _one_ night together? Hubert didn’t expect to ever get back on Ferdinand’s good side; it was a miracle that he’d even managed to get in with him long enough to have sex. It was more than likely that that  _other time_ would be never, or at least it would be after Hubert had constructed a good enough script to let Ferdinand down gently.

  
  


By the time Hubert was prepared for such an exchange and seeking it out, he found that Ferdinand was decidedly elusive. It wasn’t clear whether Ferdinand was purposefully avoiding him once they’d returned to business as usual, or if it was simply a coincidence of circumstances. There was a lot of work to catch up on after the long weekend out of town, and the opportunities they had to talk during training sessions were absent while Ferdinand recovered from his injury.

  
  


Whenever Hubert tried to flag Ferdinand down at the office, he already had someone at his desk. Among the preexisting  work for the merger and whatever that entailed, Ferdinand was apparently desperately interviewing for a replacement for Flayn, a position that he was no longer listing as temporary. From what Hubert heard, no one was right for the job. Particularly among the applicants from within the company, it appeared that the majority of them were just… off in a way that no one could pin down.

  
  


The closest Hubert got to touching base with Ferdinand was when he sent him to take the blood sample from the woods for Mercedes to analyze. It was purely a transactional interaction, and Hubert didn’t even get anything of use from the trip; the blood was sent back with a request from Mercedes not to send her obviously vampiric blood to do labs on around her coworkers.

  
  


The next time Hubert was with Ferdinand without the rest of the group present was on a stop on the way to a daylight visit to the hospital in which Edelgard had sent the two of them in to pick up an order from a local bakery. There was only a couple minutes of waiting in line at the busy shop—hardly enough time to discuss their circumstances to any practical extent. Still, Hubert found himself compelled to try.

  
  


He touched Ferdinand’s elbow to get his attention, speaking low under the roar of the other customers. “I do not want to go so far as to assume what is best for you,” he said. “However, do you not think that now is not the best time for a… relationship?”

  
  


To Hubert’s surprise, Ferdinand seemed even less excited about this topic. “I fail to see your point.”

  
  


“It isn’t difficult to observe,” said Hubert as he took a step forward with the rest of the line, “that you are in a precarious time in your life. Between your work and vampire hunting, you have little time, and you are coping with a loss that you couldn’t have prepared for.” Hubert spoke clearly, with the rote rhythm from having rehearsed his arguments in his head a million times over. He just wanted to put this to rest.

  
  


Ferdinand looked down his nose at Hubert. “What I would  _like_ to say,” he said, too loudly, “is that anyone capable of looking past those things long enough to  _sleep_ with someone should at least be able to take that someone out for dinner, or at least  _talk_ with them.”

  
  


The judging eyes of the passersby bored into Hubert’s skin. Now these strangers knew far more than they needed to about their relationship. “I’ve found it very difficult,” observed Hubert, “to find opportunities to  _talk_ as of late.”

  
  


“Difficult? How so?”

  
  


“I do not want to make accusations, but it seems as though you’ve been avoiding me, Ferdinand.” Hubert tried to keep his voice down, as if his muttering could make up for Ferdinand’s hollering.

  
  


Ferdinand clicked his tongue and looked even more askance at Hubert, who was starting to wonder how he’d managed to tolerate this man long enough to sleep with him. “It seems to me that the events since that weekend have proven that you lack conviction. I am not so sure I wish to spend much of my time with someone so unwilling to put in effort.”

  
  


Hubert’s embarrassment was starting to flare into something closer to fury. “I am supposed to ignore obvious signs that you’re busy that  _you_ have put out? So that I may, what? Bother you to show my conviction? Do you realize how absurd that sounds?” He was going wildly off script, and the unexplored waters were making his voice raise.

  
  


“I was simply testing the waters, Hubert. And I have found them far too salty for my tastes.”

  
  


Hubert reeled. To think that Ferdinand was  _testing_ him, like they were  half their actual age. Hubert wanted to call him out for being underhanded and petty, but he wondered if it would mean anything at all coming from him. Though Hubert worked himself up into a frenzy searching for a n appropriately scathing response, he bit his tongue when it was their turn at the counter.

  
  


Ferdinand took point and addressed the chipper cashier. “I have an order under either the name Aegir or Hresvelg. Assorted cupcakes. Is that ready?”

  
  


“Uhm… yes!” The girl presented a box smattered with  _get well soon_ decorations and passed it to Ferdinand, who offloaded it wordlessly onto Hubert. “That’ll be--”

  
  


“Actually, would it be at all possible to add something to the order?” There was a lull as the girl had an aside with her manager regarding the system. Hubert felt the already harsh eyes upon him grow more bothered as he and Ferdinand had now shifted from  _Bickering Gay Couple_ to  _Bickering Gay Couple Who Are Holding Up the Line_ .

  
  


“Ferdinand,” Hubert muttered, tapping his toes. “I’m going to take this and leave. You can meet me at the car.”

  
  


“Just wait one moment, Hubie,” jeered Ferdinand, clearly delighting too much in this. “Tell me,” he said when the girl had finally worked out the method for changing the order on the fly. “Do you have anything more on the bitter side? My boyfriend here hates sweets, but I wouldn’t want to leave him out.”

  
  


Oh, god. Hubert wanted to disappear, but Ferdinand had physically blocked his escape route, unless he wanted to suffer the gauntlet of going backwards through the line.

  
  


“ Well,” hummed the girl, halfway addressing Hubert, now the  _boyfriend_ of this equation. “We have some more tart grapefruit pastries, or, ah, there’s coffee cake.”

  
  


Ferdinand snapped his fingers. “Ah! Coffee cake would be  _perfect_ . Mind boxing me up a slice?” His words, though cheery, were beating Hubert down into oblivion.

  
  


When he set the little box atop the one already in Hubert’s hands, Ferdinand held an air of pure smugness. “Here. See how easy it is to put in just a little bit of effort?”

  
  


Through his growing nausea, Hubert managed to eke out a joyless, polite “thank you” when he realized that silence wouldn’t allow him passage out of the shop. As if he’d truly been in need of a reminder of the reasons other than his professional priorities to avoid  initiating  _anything_ with Ferdinand. He wished he’d never even thought about kissing him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


With the sweets distributed across the girls and Ferdinand, Hubert was left with a little box of shame and bitterness to carry around the hospital. He wanted to throw it away, but he could feel Edelgard’s eyes on him and didn’t want to answer any questions about it. So, fine, he could throw it away if he waited. He let it sit on the table as he examined Lysithea, as he sat back to let she and Edelgard become engrossed in one another, as he wondered if it would really even be right to throw away something so thoughtful, passive-aggression be damned. But, he certainly couldn’t eat it; every time he so much as looked at it, Ferdinand’s voice echoed in his head, calling him his “boyfriend,” and he felt newly ill.

  
  


Hubert shook away his stresses and refocused on his notes and finished jotting details about Lysithea’s state. She’d filled out somewhat, in no small thanks to Edelgard’s showering her with baked goods, and her hair had more or less finished graying out. It was a wonder how the effects seemed to suck all of the pigment out at such a rate, but Hubert had no choice but to simply jot it down as another feature of vampiric bafflement.

  
  


“You are looking profoundly stable,” said Hubert. “At least, as stable as a woman twice your age would be. Quite encouraging, if I must say.”

  
  


Lysithea worried her brow. “It _sounds_ encouraging,” she grumbled. “Any idea how long the heat flashes will last?”

  
  


“Four, maybe five years.”

  
  


“ _Years?_ ” Lysithea groaned and flopped back onto the bed. For a moment, she was lost in a heap of pillows before she pulled herself back up, smoothed her hair,  and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m good. Sorry for that.” She addressed Hubert with a newly stalwart expression. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

  
  


Hubert shook his head. “All in all, you are looking very good in your recovery.”

  
  


“So, when will I be able to go home? Soon?” Lysithea looked between Hubert and Edelgard with big, pleading eyes. “I mean, as nice as it’s been getting Edelgard’s help here, I want to get back to my actual practice.”

  
  


Hubert and Edelgard exchanged a strained look. “ Lysithea,” said Edelgard, folding her hands, “I was actually thinking about offering you a position at my family’s company, if you would take it.”

  
  


Confusion set into Lysithea’s face when Edelgard offered her hand. “But, I’m not in corporate law. How could I…?”

  
  


“It… is only really corporate law on the surface.”  Edelgard took Lysithea’s hand and held it to her chest. Her eyes sparkled with an excitement that Hubert hadn’t seen on her in a long time. “You will be an active part of our legal team during the day, but by night you would work with  _us_ . We could use the advice of someone like you when things get muddy on hunts. We’ve had to interpret the law rather liberally at times, and you would be far more helpful for that than Hubert’s ability to scour the internet. With this whole thing happening to you, bringing you to me, it feels like nothing short of destiny, Lysithea.” Energy seemed to spark between the two of them unhindered, and Lysithea reflected the intense look in Edelgard’s eyes. 

  
  


With the palpable connection bridging the two, it was difficult for Hubert to suppress the wince that came to his face when Lysithea started to pull her hand back. “Wait,” she said, her voice small, “you never answered the question. When do I get out of here?”

  
  


Edelgard curled her fingers  in, one by one, until her hand formed a tight fist. “That depends.”

  
  


“On what?”

  
  


Edelgard looked to Hubert for help. He sighed before delivering the news: “there have been known cases—few, but known—of those resistant to the venom holding it dormant in their body for months, even years, before suddenly… regressing. If you were to take Edelgard’s offer, then we would be able to keep an eye on you in the coming times, in case we need to--”

  
  


“What Hubert is saying,” interjected Edelgard, reaching to Lysithea’s shoulder, “is  that the safest option for you would be to stay with us so that we can notice if something related to your bite flares up. We— _I_ want to see you safe and healthy for as long as possible.”

  
  


Edelgard’s attempt to move her hand onto Lysithea’s cheek was soundly rejected. “Do you not trust me?” Lysithea’s voice shook under her firm tone.

  
  


The tightness in Edelgard’s brow cut deep, and Hubert had to look away from the destruction. “Lyisthea,” Edelgard pleaded, “of course I don’t think that  _you--_ ”

  
  


“I mean, if you were to tell me that  _Hubert_ was concerned about me, what was it?  _Regressing_ into a vampire, I wouldn’t be surprised. But you, Edelgard?” Lysithea held her sheets so taut that Hubert was convinced she’d rip them. “I thought you of all people would be able to see past what happened to me and actually care about me as a  _person_ .”

  
  


“Of course  I care about you, Lysithea!” Edelgard got up and pulled Lysithea into a sidelong embrace, half kneeling on the bed. “That’s why I’m so scared. Lysithea, please don’t take this the wrong way.”

  
  


Over Edelgard’s shoulder, Lysithea cast a look in Hubert’s direction. He couldn’t begin to figure out what it was she wanted out of him; he wasn’t exactly well-versed in comfort. “Consider this: should you lose this game of chance against your antibodies, would you rather be eliminated painlessly by Edelgard or me, or would you rather suffer through the experience of losing your humanity?”

  
  


Lysithea looked downward as she considered that. When Edelgard pulled her closer, her eyes fell shut the rest of the way and she gave into the softness. Hubert was relieved that his cold breakdown was enough to convince her.

  
  


“Putting aside the matter-of-fact way that you discuss killing me,” Lysithea said after a beat, “am I allowed to ask how long I will be here if I don’t take your offer? Will it be for life?”

  
  


Edelgard hummed and pulled herself further onto the bed to hold Lysithea more comfortably. “Are you…  saying no, then?”

  
  


Lysithea’s lashes fluttered as she shut her eyes again. Her nostrils flared, and Hubert recognized that she was trying to absorb every last breath of Edelgard as she could. He wished for a moment that he’d properly appreciated his moments of closeness with Ferdinand. He’d taken the concept of seeing him intimately again for granted, and now, when he wasn’t regretting starting anything with him, he was regretting his flippant treatment of that night.

  
  


Hubert shook himself out of his jealousy. Sure, it seemed that Edelgard and Lysithea were finally appreciating one another and growing closer than ever, but Hubert had gotten a slice of coffee cake out of his one night stand, so who was the real winner?

  
  


After a few long, pensive sighs, Lysithea pulled away from Edelgard. “If I said that I was thinking about it, would you let me get out of this damn bed for a little bit?”

  
  


Edelgard laughed from deep in her chest. “I think that we can find an excuse, yes.”

  
  



	19. Act 2 Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes to shit.

“Emile, you can stay down here in the mail room and make some copies of our old legal documents for Lysithea to study. We could use, let’s say…” Edelgard hummed and flipped through one of the file boxes thoughtfully before hefting the whole thing up onto the sorting table. “All of this?”

  
  


Though Emile’s eyebrows lowered fractionally, all he said was, “very well. All of it.”

  
  


Edelgard nodded graciously. “Let me know if the copier starts giving you trouble; Hubert has a way with it.”

  
  


Hubert boggled at that. He most certainly did not. It was simply the case that no one else ever volunteered to fix the damned thing, since it always seemed to give out when Edelgard needed quick work done.

  
  


“Worry not,” said Emile confidently. “No machine would dare to cross me. If it does, it will be soundly defeated.” Once he seemed satisfied with regarding the copier like he was planning to bathe in its ink, he turned to put a hand on Mercedes’s shoulder. “I do hope that you’re doing well,” he said with a voice softer than he used for anyone else. Mercedes simply gave him a look like she’d just swallowed something rancid.

  
  


Mercedes’s other shoulder was filled by Edelgard’s hand. “You must relax, Mercedes,” she said. “We will be back before you know it.”

  
  


“I appreciate the sentiment,” said Mercedes. “But nothing you say will change the fact that I’m taking part in a kidnapping, no matter how temporary.”

  
  


Edelgard snorted at that. “Come on. We’ll hurry things along. Lysithea.” She fluttered her lashes across the group, outing herself once more as soundly in the honeymoon phase. “This is your trip, so where do you want to go first?”

  
  


“Anywhere I can stretch my legs is good,” said Lysithea. “But, why don’t we start with whatever’s closest?”

  
  


“We will pay a visit to Ferdinand, then.”

  
  


Great. Hubert found himself lingering at the back of the group, failing to share the enthusiasm of the girls. “Do you truly think that _hes_ still in the office?”

  
  


“It isn’t that late,” said Edelgard, knuckling the elevator button. “Unless he has some kind of date waiting for him, he’s probably here as late as Dorothea these days.”

  
  


“Wonderful,” grumbled Hubert as the group piled into the elevator. Somehow, he didn’t find himself particularly able to hope that Ferdinand  _did_ have a date of some kind.

  
  


“You should be excited for tonight, Hubert,” Edelgard chirped. “We’ll have a chance to see how Lysithea responds to our wards. Wouldn’t it be interesting if the venom reacted inside of a non-vampire?”

  
  


Suddenly, Hubert felt very sick. Ah, the wards.

  
  


“What kind of wards are we talking about?” asked Lysithea, quirking an eyebrow.

  
  


Hubert moved in to keep Edelgard from answering. “I cannot say, for the sake of scientific integrity. I wouldn’t want any placebos.”

  
  


Lysithea tapped her chin and narrowed her eyes at Hubert, but she seemed to give up on resistance when the doors to the elevator groaned open. “Alright,” she said, stepping out. “Makes sense.  I’ll keep a close eye on how I feel for your sake.”

  
  


Hubert let out a breath and allowed the  others to spread in front of him, happy to hide in the back. He felt decidedly exposed, and found himself trying to hide behind the girls, no matter how short they were. Perhaps it would have been advantageous to drag Emile along.

  
  


Unfortunately, the only layer of defense he could find was Mercedes, who fell into step next to him despite his efforts, and he had a feeling that she wasn’t likely to protect him from interacting with Ferdinand.

  
  


“Hubert,” she said, quiet and concerned, undetected by the chattering pair in front of them. “I was wondering if you had… talked at all with Ferdinand.” Her expression betrayed that she had almost certainly had Ferdinand’s side of things told to her in detail. It felt like every time Hubert turned his back, those two were talking about him; he considered asking her if she h ad heard about each and every position they’d had sex in, as well.

  
  


“I have tried,” moaned Hubert, far too raw, far too defensive. He clenched his jaw and tried to calm himself, but nothing could stop the trembling in his hands. “This is not… whatever it is that he’s described it to you as. It’s a single night that was misunderstood.” Though he intended to whisper, his voice was quickly turning into something louder. “Besides, even if I did talk to him, he wouldn’t listen. Christ, it’s like he only hears what he wants--”

  
  


“Hubert.”

  
  


“And I am willing to admit that it wasn’t the most prudent idea to sleep with him in the first place, but--”

  
  


“ _Hubert_ .” This time, it was Edelgard who was addressing him, shooting a glare over her shoulder.

  
  


Hubert swallowed his tongue. He’d truly morphed into something incorrigible. He could feel eyes on him, peering late-workers who were far too excited to be let in on the drama. Suddenly, the spacious office felt horribly cramped, with far too many people in it, including his nosy cohorts and, most unfortunately, lingering just ahead of the group, watching him with wide eyes, Ferdinand himself.

  
  


Hubert muttered a tiny  _“apologies_ ,” barely audible to even himself over the roaring in his ears.

  
  


After a truly grievous beat, Mercedes rescued the atmosphere in stride. “It’s nice to see you in your natural element, Ferdinand,” she observed, her voice soft as a cloud.

  
  


Ferdinand’s tight posture relaxed somewhat. “And it’s good to see you out of yours, Mercedes.”  When he looked over the group, he seemed to skip past Hubert. “May I ask the reason for this surprise? It isn’t my birthday, is it?”

  
  


“It isn’t,” chuckled Edelgard. “And you aren’t in trouble, either. We’re showing Lysithea around.”

  
  


Ferdinand cracked a glowing, friendly smile. “Well, then, welcome! I hope I don’t disappoint. You’ll need to pardon my undress—I was hardly expecting any visitors.” He made an effort to tidy up his loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt. For once, he was looking like someone who put a lot into his work. There was something about it that drew the eye, though Hubert cursed himself for caring at all about Ferdinand’s state of dress after he’d seen the man naked.

  
  


Lysithea put herself at the front of the group, managing to command quite the presence despite her stature. “Ferdinand, would you mind telling me what sort of work your legal team conducts?”

  
  


Ferdinand’s eyes widened. “I… must admit, you’re putting me awfully on the spot. If you want to come into my office, I may have a few documents from legal.” He stepped aside to let the women into his office, ever the gentleman. As he waited, propped somewhat against the threshold to stay off of his healing leg, he started to unroll his sleeves before seeming to finally notice Hubert where he lingered in the hall. He adopted a queer look and rolled his sleeves back up past his elbows, quirking an eyebrow at Hubert. “Are you… joining us, Hubert?”

  
  


Hubert shrunk back. “I wouldn’t wish to crowd the room.”

  
  


“ Oh, Hubert.” When Ferdinand put a hand on Hubert’s arm, it was as though all of that work he’d done desensitizing himself went away at once. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to run for the hills or sink into the touch like there was no one else around. “You know you’re always welcome,” Ferdinand continued. “If you’d give it a chance, you would find it’s quite roomy--”

  
  


“Ferdinand, please, I… I do not care for things like this.” He couldn’t even admit what he wanted to do, because he didn’t  _know_ what he wanted. Even just asking Ferdinand to leave him be and never speak of their intimacy again would require an agonizingly candid discussion that Hubert wasn’t ready to have, and that’s for the most simple option available. Besides, he knew that that wasn’t what he wanted. The thought of never seeing Ferdinand again, for sex or otherwise, made him feel dreadful. But how could he  _say_ that? Certainly not in so many words. “The, erm, legal discussions, they bore me to tears. I will sit it out.”

  
  


The force of Ferdinand’s disappointment buffeted Hubert. “Alright, then. If you ever change your mind, though.” He slid his hand down Hubert’s arm and caught his hand, which he leaned down to kiss cordially. “The door is open.”

  
  


Hubert stared like a fool as Ferdinand disappeared through the threshold. He could hear the discussion inside, which fell as wordless noise on Hubert’s reddened ears. He was sure his fingers were  _tingling_ . Where had all of this charm been hiding away? If Ferdinand had behaved like this since the first time they’d met, Hubert would have ended up in bed with him much sooner. If there was any falling left to do, it came with that kiss.

  
  


Hubert lingered in the hall, searching for details to ground himself with. If he spent one more second focused on his damned feelings, he would go mad. So, he watched the late night scrapings of the late workers as they poured over their computers, which whirred up a cloud of calm white noise.

  
  


It appeared that Flayn’s desk had been officially gutted, the bare surface standing out among the well-used desks surrounding it.  His mind wandered to Ferdinand’s desperate search for a replacement. Though he knew it was cynical to think, he was comforted by the fact that the search confirmed Ferdinand to be more or less settled into the idea of moving past her, both professionally and emotionally. Whether that meant there was truly space for him, or if he even wanted to take up that space, was unclear.

  
  


Hubert stepped aside when a custodian came by to water the scraggly ficus that guarded the entrance to Ferdinand’s office. He let his eyes wander to the spray of water as it settled into the soil, finally finding some calm in the environment around him, but something in the pot gave him pause.

  
  


“How odd,” muttered Hubert, leaning to look closer at the cluster of sprouts. “Have you planted something new in here?”

  
  


The custodian cocked their head. “Not that I can recall.”

  
  


Hubert reached in and plucked a sprout from the pot. It was the red-stemmed leafling of a hawthorn plant. “Shit,” he breathed.

  
  


“Are there weeds?” puttered the custodian.

  
  


“No. It isn’t a problem,” Hubert said, crushing the sprout and letting it fall back into the dirt. “I was mistaken. Carry on.”

  
  


All at once, Hubert’s awareness was kicked into a new form, and he grew suspicious of each and every lingering employee. He wanted so badly to write off the little plants, but they were so fresh, and so clearly resembled the evidence he’d seen time and again from locations with many vampiric visitors. He couldn’t simply ignore the signs; it was his job to keep his allies safe.

  
  


Hubert leaned an ear towards Ferdinand’s office. Conversation was carrying on smoothly. He wondered if he would be justified in intruding. He caught himself wondering whether the pointed looks from the employees had truly been from his inappropriate conduct, or if it was their noticing the scent of his pin.

  
  


The racing in his mind was making Hubert come close to overheating. He shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves, his movements as natural as he could make them. He didn’t want any of the fiends to know that he was cottoning onto their presence.

  
  


Hubert gave his coat a good shaking out before he laid it across Flayn’s empty desk, hopefully wafting the scent  of the hawthorn far across the office floor. From what he could see, the gesture caught a few eyes, a few flaring nostrils. It seemed that at least four out of the five were stirred, and one most certainly had the sort of yellowed, dark eye sockets that Hubert had grown familiar with. This was a bigger intrusion than he expected, if they were truly all vampires.

  
  


Tense and impatient, Hubert whirled and ducked into Ferdinand’s office, ready to warn his compatriots.

  
  


“ Oop, ‘scuse me, Hubert.” Lysithea swerved past him, clutching a ream of papers to her chest. “You’re behind,” she jeered. “We’re heading to Edelgard’s office next.”

  
  


Hubert pressed his lips together and pressed himself against the doorway as the women passed. He was a reckless fool for even considering telling anyone about this. As if it would accomplish anything except putting off everyone’s good spirits. It was more than likely that these vampires wouldn’t even be a threat; no beast was foolish enough to try to get the drop on him and Edelgard. Besides, if he brought this up while they were on their way upstairs, he would be exposed in his failure regarding the wards. Best to stay quiet.

  
  


“Ferdinand,” said Edelgard on her way into the hall, “if you want, we can send these down to Emile to copy, so we aren’t just stealing them.”

  
  


“ No, no, don’t worry one bit,” chirped Ferdinand as he stuffed a folder back into his desk drawers. “They aren’t the originals. I can bother legal for new ones tomorrow.”

  
  


“Thank you,” said Edelgard before trotting to catch up with Lysithea and Mercedes, leaving the space stunningly empty.

  
  


Hubert was watching the girls when he found himself startled by skin-on-skin contact. Ferdinand was brushing a hand up his arm, batting his lashes at Hubert. “So,” Ferdinand hummed, “you were on your way inside?”

  
  


Hubert swallowed. He had all but forgotten the parameters of Ferdinand’s extended metaphor in his moment of anxiety. But, apparently he’d stumbled into the act that would make Ferdinand look at him like  _that_ , and it was tempting to take responsibility. He certainly didn’t mind the tingling, hair raising touch that found his exposed arms.

  
  


“I was… going to, yes,” said Hubert as naturally as he could. “Am I still welcome? Or have I missed my window?”

  
  


Ferdinand smiled, and it felt like stepping into the sunlight after weeks of waiting out a blizzard. “You may have just eked by,” he said, bringing a hand to Hubert’s cheek. This was hardly the appropriate location for such affection, but Hubert couldn’t find it in him to care. “But, truthfully, as long as you’re willing to try, you’re always welcome.”

  
  


Hubert deflated when he heard Edelgard calling: “Hubert, Ferdinand, you coming?”

  
  


When Hubert furrowed his brow, Ferdinand flashed a grin. “I asked to tag along on the field trip,” Ferdinand chirped, appearing far less disappointed by the interruption than Hubert was. “I assume that’s alright with you?” As Ferdinand galloped ahead, Hubert struggled to steady himself. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just signed up for, but he was excited to find out.

  
  


Hubert found himself stared down rather intently by the women when he joined them all. Between their clear excitement to jab Hubert and the pressure of still keeping a secret from Edelgard, he wasn’t eager to jump into a tin can with them. “I think I need to stretch my legs,” Hubert muttered. “I think I will take the stairs.”

  
  


No one seemed to take issue, thankfully, until Ferdinand chimed in, extremely obviously, “you know, that sounds like a  _fine_ idea. Perhaps I’ll join; I have been at a desk all day.”

  
  


The others took notice of  _that_ , and Hubert hurried to get out from under their giggling, diving into the door to the stairwell. Despite his best efforts to avoid it, he ended up being bullied on his way out, and it was all thanks to Ferdinand.

  
  


Ferdinand, who was stopping him halfway up the staircase to pull him into the sweetest kiss he’d ever tasted, who was splaying his hands out on Hubert’s back and encircling him in his arms, who was sighing and smiling into Hubert’s lips like it was his first ever kiss, who was chasing away all of the concerns Hubert had held in his head with an embrace so tight that Hubert had barely room to breathe within it.

  
  


Ferdinand pulled away with glossy eyes and fumbled: “I don’t mean to catch you off-guard, I just. Goodness, I had to. I mean, seeing you with your arms out and all, you’re just so… so…” 

  
  


His words melted into mere shapes against Hubert’s lips. Ferdinand broke off from the kiss just long enough to finish with a mumbled “so  _kissable_ ,” before falling back in. Hubert made a point of disallowing any further rambling, holding Ferdinand in place by the back of his neck and commanding full control over his mouth.  Though Hubert had been plenty electrified by their first kiss, he was unfamiliar with the concept of  _returning_ to someone. He knew now that he was a fool for ever thinking that he could be satisfied by one night alone. 

  
  


“Hubert.” Ferdinand took hold of Hubert’s hands, pausing them where they started to unbutton his collar. When Ferdinand laughed, forehead touched to Hubert’s, the sound brought a matching smile to Hubert’s face. “We—we can’t, ah, you know.”

  
  


Hubert gave an amused snort. “We can’t just fuck in the stairwell?”

  
  


Ferdinand put a hand to his mouth, but his giggling poured over. “You said it, not me.”

  
  


As Hubert tried to stay his own amusement, he wondered if there were any unfortunate wanderers elsewhere on the stairs hearing their delirious laughter echo. He’d never thought that he would end up rolled up into something like this, all magnetism and joy and stolen kisses. That sense of wonder that Ferdinand had must have been rubbing off onto him.

  
  


Humming, Hubert buried his nose into the crook of Ferdinand’s neck, a warm home wreathed in fiery curls. “No, perhaps we can’t fuck in the stairwell, but we could always do something a little bit more brief…”

  
  


“Hubert, stop!” Ferdinand’s voice was shrill as he squirmed away from Hubert’s teeth. “Hubert, we shouldn’t leave our friends waiting.”

  
  


A buoyant  air filled Hubert’s chest. He felt so  _immature_ playing around like this, but it was well worth it for the endearing reactions of his… lover? Partner? Boyfriend? The details were a bit fuzzy.

  
  


“Very well,” Hubert sighed at length. “I suppose we can wait.”

  
  


“A wait will only make it taste sweeter,” said Ferdinand, leaving a saccharine kiss on Hubert’s temple before trotting up the rest of the steps. Hubert was glad to have something to look forward to.

  
  


Hubert hesitated on the way up, suddenly aware of how exposed he was as he tried to sort himself out. Ferdinand’s comment about his  _arms_ echoed in his head. He’d been endeared at the time, but…

  
  


“I left my coat downstairs,” said Hubert hastily, turning to retreat down the stairs. Had he truly gotten so carried away with his infatuation?  Perhaps his perception of Ferdinand as a distraction wasn’t wrong in the first place. But still, for a simple distraction, he sure had a way of settling Hubert’s nerves. The tension that had been setting in was gone as if it were never there; Hubert was having trouble even remembering what had bothered him so.

  
  


It wasn’t hard to remember when he emerged from the stairwell into a dead quiet office. The late workers had all seemed to disappear from their desks. Hubert hurried towards where he’d left his coat, and the tension was back, all at once. It was gone. Not on the floor next to the desk he’d left it on, not anywhere else in the room. Gone. Just like the inhabitants of the floor. Christ, at least one of them had to have been human. Would the fiends be so bold as to steal away prey in the open like this?

  
  


When Hubert wheeled back towards the stairs,  he caught sight of those vanishing late workers, clustered around the elevator doors. He instinctively felt for his supplies, but his pins and irritants were in his coat pockets. He had no way to engage, and those smug bastards clearly knew it.

  
  


Hubert was sickeningly aware of his cohorts, alone and unaware,  mingling about upstairs. Not only had he left his things without thinking, he’d managed to leave behind his allies, as well. And if  _they_ were gone when he returned, there would be no way to fix that. He blasted past the silent, staring cluster of vampires, clamoring back up the stairs, hopefully more quickly than the elevator would be able to pick up the beasts. 

  
  


When Hubert burst forth into the hall, he was on course to collide bodily into Ferdinand. He skidded to a stop, a warning on his lips, but Ferdinand was regarding him with a vacantly chipper expression and bombarding him with words before he could even start.

  
  


“Hubert, my goodness, you aren’t going to believe this,” Ferdinand sang, his eyes sparkling. “But she’s—she’s not dead! Hubert, this is a--”

  
  


“Wait,  _what_ are you talking about?” Hubert had to practically yell to hear himself above his pounding heart.

  
  


“It’s Flayn!” Oh, no. “She’s here!” Oh,  _no_ . “She may have amnesia or something, because she’s having trouble answering our questions, but, oh, oh what are we sitting here for? Come on, Hubert--”

  
  


“ _Don’t_ !” Hubert ripped Ferdinand back so hard that they both tumbled to the floor. Past Ferdinand’s shoulder, Hubert caught sight of the girls , Dorothea now added to the pool , huddled, unaware, around that blasted head of green, all eyes on him.  He cursed himself for letting his instincts move him before he could think.

  
  


Hubert expected some frustration from Ferdinand, but the look on his face was far more difficult. He placed a hand on Hubert’s cheek and spoke with a softness that didn’t at all match the scenario: “Hubert, you don’t need to be worried. This is exciting, but it won’t change anything. I’ll always put  _us_ first.”

  
  


“No, Ferdinand, that’s not--” Before Hubert could finish, Ferdinand occupied his mouth with a kiss, slow and inappropriately deep. There was no way Hubert could find his way back to his words, no matter how hard he tried, through the mush that he turned into from that.

  
  


As if Hubert wasn’t already sufficiently bombarded, Ferdinand had even  _more_ to say. “See? You needn’t worry, Hubert. I love  _you_ , and nothing is going to change that, not even a miracle like this.”

  
  


Hubert’s breath didn’t reach his lungs. He  _what_ ? Surely he’d misheard. “Ferdinand, I…”

  
  


“Yes?”

  
  


When Hubert’s eyes fell on the green demon beyond, he realized that that declaration of love wouldn’t last much longer. How he wished he could cling to the lies for just a moment longer. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could.

  
  


“Ferdinand,” Hubert whispered, glancing back towards the elevator door as it creaked open. “There are vampires here.”  The beasts that emerged were crossing towards the girls, but Hubert didn’t know whether it was time to give himself away yet. “Keep calm.”

  
  


“Vamp--” Ferdinand bit his lip and quieted before continuing: “ _vampires?_ ”

  
  


“I don’t know whether they will attack--”

  
  


“Hey!” Dorothea’s voice, shrill with fury, cut through the air. “You get off of her!” Hubert watched, still frozen, as Dorothea ripped one of the beasts from where it gripped Mercedes and kicked it too the floor. “Mercie, I have a rosary in my top drawer! Can you get it?” She dragged the beast off of her leg and pinned it down as Mercedes made a break for the desk.

  
  


Ferdinand was getting to his feet and all but sprinting ahead, leaving Hubert in stunned stillness. “My god,” cried Ferdinand, “Flayn, watch--”

  
  


“Dorothea!” Hubert couldn’t outrun Ferdinand at this point, but he could throw his voice ahead as he got up. “Do  _not_ turn your back on her! She’s not human!”

  
  


“What?” She whirled and brought up an arm to block an attempted grapple from Flayn. The impact was stunning, considering the diminutive size of the attacker.

  
  


“ _What?_ ” Ferdinand’s momentum disappeared all at once as Hubert sprinted past him to help Dorothea.

  
  


When Hubert pushed Flayn off, she tumbled, hissing, into the wall, where Hubert pinned her as best he could against her staggering strength. The amount of raw power that the curse of vampirism had brought her almost made Hubert jealous. Though, considering her physical features and powerful thrall, enough to make even Hubert lightheaded, it was likely she never knew the weakness of being human.

  
  


Flayn’s smooth, pale skin was singed by a splattering of holy water across her face. As she reeled, Hubert twisted her into a firm choke-hold before meeting eyes with Mercedes, who was holding out the bottle to him. He shook his head.

  
  


Dorothea got up from where she’d trussed a beast’s hands with her rosary, snatching the bottle from Mercedes. “If you won’t do it, I will,” she growled. With Hubert holding Flayn steady, she pinched open her fanged mouth and dumped the holy water in. Flayn gurgled horrendously as her struggling returned twofold, straining against Hubert’s arms. Though he searched for an option to finish her off, he lacked the supplies he was used to having in his coat. With the other vampires that were revealing themselves across the cubicle sea, Hubert was in need of another option.

  
  


“Where is Edelgard?” Hubert snapped, spitting green hairs out of his mouth.

  
  


“She’s with Lysithea,” called Dorothea where she grappled with a vampire beyond Mercedes, pressing a silver cross into its cheek. “In her office!”

  
  


“You let them go off on their own?” snarled Hubert.

  
  


Dorothea scoffed and yanked the vampire at hand down to tangle it with the rosary binding its ally. “I didn’t know we were in  _danger_ , thank you very much! What happened to the wards?”

  
  


Mercedes shoved another bottle of holy water to Dorothea before backing away from the fray, calling: “I need to make sure Emile is okay!”

  
  


“Don’t,” Hubert barked. He struggled to keep his voice level; he needed to be fearless, now more than ever. “He can handle himself. We need--” his words cut into a yell as the fingers that pawed at his arm turned into claws. Night had fully fallen.

  
  


Hubert released the growing form and pressed himself to the wall, searching desperately for a path to take to get to Edelgard. Flayn towered, filling the hall bodily and disturbing ceiling tiles with the tips of those leathery wings. A pair of long, twisting horns resembled the emerald ringlets that framed her head before, and the scales covering her beastly body were white instead of gray, a sign of her purity of lineage. She could have been anywhere from three to five centuries old, and that was young for her kind, thankfully; if she were any bigger, the floor below their feet would have already collapsed.

  
  


“ Oh, my god…” Ferdinand’s miserable voice reminded Hubert that he was lingering at the mouth of the hall, making a face like he was going to throw up. “ _Flayn…_ ”

  
  


Hubert was heaving Ferdinand all but entirely over his shoulder, forcing him from where he was rooted in place. Sprinting across the floor with adrenaline-fueled legs, Hubert wove through desks and pillars, vaguely aware beyond his abject fear of the destruction behind him. Flayn seemed to effortlessly blast through every piece of furniture they went past.

  
  


Ducking into a meeting room, Hubert dropped Ferdinand off and com m anded: “Hold the door shut!” He waited until he could be sure that Ferdinand, dazed as he was, could follow his order before he stacked a  chair atop the lacquered meeting table and climbed atop it. Thuds and scrapes battered the door, like that of a monstrous dog eager to get out of the house. Nearly as loud as the clattering was Hubert’s heartbeat, roaring in his ears as he dug through the ceiling tiles. He’d stashed heaps of emergency supplies in every meeting room on this floor; he just needed to pick the right spot between the lights to find something of use. His memory, however, wasn’t the most successful in this chaos, and nor was his balance.

  
  


Over the cacophony, Ferdinand was blubbering. “I can’t believe they  _turned_ her! I… I swear, I checked her for neck wounds, but I didn’t--”

  
  


“Fool,  Flayn has  _always_ been a vampire,” Hubert scoffed when he lost his footing on the chair, landing ungracefully on the table. His teeth ground in frustration as he pulled himself back up, focused on the ceiling.

  
  


“ _What_ ?” Ferdinand said at length. 

  
  


Hubert winced when he realized what he’d said. So much for keeping the truth from Ferdinand. “ It’s clearly a beast born of other beasts. Look at the white scales. And the green hair. Christ, I would be a terrible hunter if I couldn’t spot such a powerful beast--”

  
  


“You  _knew_ ? Hubert, why didn’t you  _tell me_ ?” Whether the desperation in his voice was from within or from his struggling with the door, Hubert wasn’t to speculate.

  
  


“I meant to,” Hubert explained, letting out a breath as his fingers wrapped around metal, cool and comforting.  He would have preferred something with a blade, but this would do.

  
  


“What does that mean--” Ferdinand’s voice tapered into a yelp as the door gave way, sending him tumbling to the foot of the table. Hubert didn’t want to admit that he was grateful for the interruption.

  
  


Hubert leaped down between the beast and Ferdinand, wedging the silver baton he’d found into the gnashing fangs before him. The teeth clanged off of the surface, making the beast reel for long enough for Hubert to grasp its claws and wrench them against the baton, firmly breaking a few bones. Despite his success against Flayn’s fingers, Hubert was acutely aware that this weapon was meant for far smaller enemies, and he knew he couldn’t hold his ground long.

  
  


Searching for a way out, Hubert drove the baton into one of Flayn’s nostrils. It gave a shrill, scraping screech that rattled Hubert’s bones as he tried and failed to dodge a claw swipe that glanced across his cheekbone. Pain flooded his nerves, and he instinctively brought a hand to his face, soiling a glove with blood. Attempting to snap out of his reeling, Hubert peeled the glove from his hand and splattered blood across the eyes and muzzle of the beast before taking hold of its horns and twisting her to the floor.

  
  


Air stung Hubert’s face as he grabbed for Ferdinand and fled into the wrecked office. He swiped at the blood trailing from his face and smeared it across broken desks and cubicle walls on his way to picking out a spot in the rubble to dive into, trying to stuff a reluctant Ferdinand with him underneath a half-collapsed desk.

  
  


“Get  _down_ ,” Hubert hissed, soaking the blood that dripped from his chin with his sleeve.

  
  


Ferdinand poked his head above the debris, his orange locks a beacon. “You think we can  _hide_ ?”

  
  


“What do you think the blood is for? It’s no hawthorn, but it will do something. Come on.”

  
  


“She’s not stupid,” crowed Ferdinand, wringing his hands.

  
  


Hubert grabbed Ferdinand by his collar and dragged him down into his hiding place, a tiny space that reeked of blood and dust and the heat of their collective breaths. “It’s  _not_ stupid,” Hubert whispered firmly. “You’re right. But it also has a stick up its damned nose. That should make finding us at least the slightest bit more difficult.”

  
  


“So, what?” Ferdinand all but bellowed, prompting a hasty shush from Hubert. “We’re just going to hide all night? Though, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to discover that you’re a coward--”

  
  


“ We will figure out what to do next,” Hubert snapped. He was hurting more at the sting of Ferdinand’s tone than his wound. He supposed that he could say goodbye to the Ferdinand who would work himself into a frenzy over a few scratches on the palm.

  
  


Ferdinand scoffed and took control of the tiny space, leaving Hubert all but surrounded by hair and fragrance, like a sickeningly ironic cage. “You know,” said Ferdinand, “we could have known what to do in the event that my old assistant reveal herself to be a vampire if I had been told that that was at all a possibility. Goodness, at least I have an excuse; why aren’t you prepared?”

  
  


“Ferdinand.”

  
  


“ _Honestly_ what on earth is it supposed to mean that you ‘meant to’ tell me, anyway? What good does that do when we are under attack?”

  
  


“Ferdinand--”

  
  


“I hope that this wasn’t some sick kind of jealousy, keeping me in the dark like this. Did you think that I would be more interested in her if you told me?”

  
  


“No, what? I--”

  
  


“Here I was, telling you that I’d--”

  
  


“Ferdinand!”

  
  


“ _What_ ?”

  
  


Hubert released his white-knuckle grip on Ferdinand. “Have you noticed at all that you’ve been yelling at me for some time, and nothing has come to consume us?” Being scolded like he had, Hubert was already unfathomably upset, but seeing the oblivious expression that plastered Ferdinand’s face was making him more furious than he’d been in a long time. “Don’t you think there’s a  _reason_ \--”

  
  


As if on cue, a scream echoed from across the office. Despite the heat Hubert was wrapped in from embarrassment and blood, his insides went cold when he recognized the voice as Edelgard’s. He clamored out from the hiding place, leaving Ferdinand as nothing more than an afterthought as he sprinted through whatever path he could make towards Edelgard’s office.

  
  


When Hubert realized that he was still empty-handed, he detoured to the northern wall, where the fire ax was mounted next to an exit. He broke the glass with his still-gloved hand, adding the fire alarm to the growing chaos and plucking the hefty, silvered ax from its mount. It was the best line of defense he’d put in when they’d first claimed the office; it was a wonder why Edelgard hadn’t already claimed it.

  
  


Hubert swung around the threshold of the office, calling to Edelgard, but his momentum was cut short when he was clotheslined by the fleeing beast.  He got to his feet as quickly as his ringing head would allow, only to let his muscles go slack when he realized that the head clutched in Flayn’s claws was one of ginger and white hair. It was only  _her_ . Edelgard was alive, but battered, and scrambling out of the room without a second glance to Hubert, carrying the air from Hubert’s chest away as she ran after Lysithea with the same desperation that he’d come to her with.

  
  


Through the awful sight of Edelgard hurrying past him into sure danger and the flashing white of the alarm lights, Hubert felt like he was going to be sick as he spun to follow Edelgard. His awareness was tunneled on Edelgard, so he was completely blindsided when Dorothea placed herself in front of him bodily. She’d been calling for him, apparently.

  
  


“You’re hurt,” she said, reaching towards him.

  
  


Hubert sidestepped her and shouldered past. “I need to help Edelgard.”

  
  


He was whirled when Dorothea ripped him back to face her, knuckles coated with blackish blood. “Seriously, Hubert, we have this under control. Mercedes will go--”

  
  


“No!” Hubert wriggled out from under Dorothea’s grip and gestured to Mercedes with the ax. “You two, go evacuate the rest of the building. I’m going to help her.”

  
  


He didn’t listen for a response as he flung himself back where he was going, blood flicking off of his jawline. He was so electric with tension that he could barely feel the pain of the gash, save for the occasional drop of salty sweat hitting its edge. He cared about nothing other than saving Edelgard, which was why he was so pissed off when he became aware of the orange blur that insisted on following him.

  
  


“I don’t understand why you kept this from me, Hubert,” panted Ferdinand from his position at the end of the most ridiculous train of pursuit  across the office. “I truly thought that you were starting to trust me. Was I wrong?”

  
  


Hubert ignored Ferdinand’s hollering as he followed the disappearing tail that was visible where the beast crammed itself into the stairwell with Edelgard all but dangling off of it. He clenched his teeth when she stumbled and immediately got up. Did she even have a weapon, or was she running on pure desperation? Hubert was half-aware of Ferdinand’s continuing to hail him for answers as he tried desperately to keep a bead on Edelgard through all of the discord.

  
  


At the precipice of the stairs, Ferdinand managed to stop Hubert with a particularly sonorous exclamation; “I thought you  _loved_ me!”

  
  


“We had sex!  _Once_ !” Hubert whirled on Ferdinand, whose kicked puppy expression grew tinged with disgust as flecks of blood landed on his face. “During which I said nothing of the sort of platitudes you claim. I am not so desperate as you that I need to place all of my faith in a one night stand that occurred in a state of utter loneliness.” His tongue tasted like turpentine from the vile words that he spewed, but he couldn’t stop. “Now, if you would stop blaming me for your incompetence, you would be able to see all of the signs that you so pathetically ignored about your fucking  _girlfriend_ \--”

  
  


“She’s not my--”

  
  


Another scream hung in the air. Edelgard. Hubert tightened his grip around the ax. “God,” Hubert spat, “I wish you would stop demanding my attention so.” He finished climbing the stairs, desperate to leave Ferdinand behind for good.

  
  


There was so much blood. Across every waxed surface in the hallway, red splotches were leaving stains that would forever raise questions in the building’s next inhabitants. But they weren’t Edelgard’s. Not yet, at least. Lying at the scuffling feet of Edelgard and the hulking white beast was Lysithea’s body, split open  at too many points to be conceivably alive anymore. Above, Edelgard was trying to claw at the bloodied beast as though she, too was an animal with nothing but instinct and a body to fight with.

  
  


By the time Hubert reached the beast, it had thrown Edelgard further down the hall, where she skidded across the edge of the blood pool. The beast made like it was going to pounce over to her, like a cat toying with its prey, but it couldn’t jump far when Hubert drove the blade of the ax into its tail, sticking it to the polished floor. Black sludge dribbled from the half-severed tip as it whipped around to Hubert, who brandished the ax unflinchingly.

  
  


It was growing clear that the beast was growing sluggish, while Hubert had not. The undead must not have had functioning adrenal glands. He could see the attacks, and when he dodged he had what felt like an eternity to counterattack. As he littered the white scales with wedges, he became aware of Edelgard beyond, getting to her feet and making the ridiculous call to run back in. He could tell that the beast was equally conscious of her presence as its ears rotated to listen to her footsteps. To its misfortune, Hubert could also see with pointed clarity the claw that Flayn was winding up to attack Edelgard with.

  
  


The ax found its home right where Hubert had predicted the beast’s swing.  No sensation could feel as satisfying as the way that the silver cleaved through the shoulder joint was though it were nothing more than a chicken bone. The arm fell into the blood underfoot with a splatter as Flayn’s cry rose high enough to harmonize with the fire alarm. It collapsed in on itself, trying to hold back the sludge that oozed from the stub, and Hubert took the chance to collect Edelgard.

  
  


As Hubert dragged her into the stairwell and Ferdinand, helpful once in a blue moon, shut the door behind them, Edelgard loosely struggled against Hubert’s arm with bloody fingers. “Wait,” she slurred. “Wait, we have to go back… kill her.”

  
  


“As much as I would like to,” said Hubert coldly, “I am still bleeding, and you… you. God.” He halted his analysis of her condition when he found a set of messy punctures along her neck. She had been bit.

  
  


“What?” Edelgard snapped.

  
  


Hubert struggled to gather his insides from where they’d dropped at least seven stories. “You aren’t going back,” he said, tightening her grip on her to guide her down the stairs. “And I’m almost certain there are others of her kind just waiting to get inside.”

  
  


Hubert’s body started to finally crash, giving way to Edelgard’s struggling. She ended up in Ferdinand’s arms, though he didn’t seem thrilled about helping with this. He muttered to her about how everything was going to be okay, and Hubert wished he could think such things.

  
  


A wretched sound came from Edelgard’s throat a few floors down. She was sobbing from deep within, like the sound of a child who couldn’t find her mother. “Lysithea,” she cried. “We can’t leave her body…”

  
  


Hubert gave a disappointed sigh that sounded more like a wheeze as he rounded yet another flight. “I am sorry, Edelgard. We have to leave it behind.” Morbidly, he found himself wishing that he could thank Lysithea’s corpse for taking on the burden of death in Edelgard’s stead.

  
  


By the time the three of them reached the bottom floor, Hubert was running ragged, out of breath and out of blood. He was loosely aware of Ferdinand placing a helping hand upon his back, and all that did was make Hubert want to cry as hard as Edelgard. There was nothing good waiting for him on the other side of the lobby, on the other side of the night. He almost wished that he’d been the one to die at Edelgard’s feet. At least then she would be mourning him, assuming that she would cry at all.

  
  


Ferdinand got the heavy door at the bottom of the stairs, and they emptied out onto the gleaming floor of the lobby, which was swampy with just as much blood as Hubert had seen upstairs. Beastly corpses lay at the edges of the room, and in the center was a pair of humans. In the arms of Mercedes, weeping with sounds not unlike Edelgard’s, was her brother, the invincible soldier, leather-clad Emile.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow!!! We've made it to the end of act 2!! I'm hoping you're enjoying the twists and turns and that you're ready for an action-packed act 3!   
> There'll be a bit of a hiatus while I get all the kinks of act 3 worked out, promo art, etc, etc. I'll try not to leave y'all hanging for too long! Thanks for reading this overly long, overly silly fic!


	20. Act 3 Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang struggles to recover from the horrible events of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Who would've thought that keeping on top of school/work balance would make it hard for me to jump back into writing??
> 
> I took a bit of a different approach to breaking up this last act, so the chapter breaks might be a little awkward! Bear with me, please.  
> UPDATE: I went back and broke up the chapters into smaller chunks because they were frankly WAY too long! Hopefully they will be more consumable this way.

Ferdinand didn’t know what time it was or how long he’d been waiting in the yellowy lights of Edelgard’s basement. Though the walls were lined in what appeared to be old vampire hunting memorabilia, no amount of décor could insulate the space enough to fend off the chills. Ferdinand had been trembling almost constantly since they’d arrived.

  
  


“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t know she was a vampire, either.”

  
  


Ferdinand shook his head at Dorothea’s continued platitudes. “So I’m not special to him,” he cried. “He lies to _everyone_.”

  
  


“You know that’s not what I meant.” Dorothea groaned, and the ancient armchair she’d situated herself upon gave a similar sound as she leaned back.

  
  


“We really should just stop talking about him,” said Ferdinand bitterly. “I mean, goodness, we’re sitting out here while your boss and my best friend might be _dying_ , or, or turning into a vampire, and we’re talking about a _boy_. We ought to be discussing the efforts we must make to ensure her safety, hell, the safety of the entire company. Do we know who was at the office tonight? How many of them were actually vampires? What on earth am I to do about the lives of my employees?”

  
  


Dorothea flicked on her Blackberry and showed the screen to Ferdinand. “I sent an email out for everyone in the office, told them there was a gas leak and we had to evacuate. That should keep out the non-vampires for a little bit, at least.”

  
  


The text on the screen blurred as Ferdinand tried to look with eyes fuzzed over by stress. He would have to take her word for it that she was doing as good a job as she claimed. “Good,” he puffed. “That’s… that’s good. You should tell Edelgard, er, at least Hubert, about that.”

  
  


She quirked a smile as she fidgeted with the purple puff-ball charm that dangled from her phone. “You think he cares about that stuff?”

  
  


“I should hope he would. I Edelgard cares even half as much as you or me, is it not his job to do so as well?” Ferdinand sighed and put his chin in his hands. “Though, I suppose it’s my own unfortunate habit of putting too much faith into his ability to care.” He put a hand to his chest. It still carried the same ache that had appeared when he first realized he’d been lied to.

  
  


Dorothea crossed her ankles and said, “there’s nothing wrong with hoping, Ferdie.”

  
  


“Then I suppose I’ll just have to _hope_ that he takes responsibility, just as I had _hoped_ that he would see me as more than a one time fling, and _hoped_ that—god, why are we talking about him again?” He covered his eyes. “Dorothea, I thought we were trying to keep off of that subject.”

  
  


“I didn’t… ugh.” The armchair croaked once more as Dorothea got to her feet. “I think it may be difficult to do that now, I regret to say.”

  
  


“I know, but--” Ferdinand swallowed his words when he peeked from between his fingers to see that Hubert had emerged from the other room, bandage over his cheek, hands stained with red. In any other circumstances, Ferdinand would be drawn in by the sight of Hubert in his rolled shirtsleeves, to the arcing black hairs on his forearms, to the sheen of sweat on his harsh brow. He would even be morbidly intrigued by the red that say along the edges of his fingernails… in fact, the circumstances seemed to do little to prevent him from feeling such a way. He was struck by a pang in his heart at the thought of the night they’d spent together, because the images hadn’t stopped flashing through his brain since, no matter how hard he tried.

  
  


The pang grew only deeper when Hubert looked past Dorothea, right through him. Did he know that Ferdinand was staring? Did it offend him? Was he even allowed to look at Hubert in such a way anymore?

  
  


“How is she?” pleaded Dorothea, cutting into Hubert’s eye line heroically.

  
  


“She isn’t bleeding any longer,” replied Hubert.

  
  


Dorothea slumped back into her chair, appearing unsure as to whether to be relieved or devastated. Though unsatisfying, Hubert’s words did cause the slightest bit of tension release in the room. Ferdinand was almost okay with Hubert placing himself on the dusty couch next to him, more exhausted than he’d ever looked. Ferdinand wished he could offer any kind of valuable consolation.

  
  


“If anyone has less urgent injuries,” Hubert sighed, “now is the time to come forward.”

  
  


Dorothea shook her head. “I took care of my scratches and bumps already.”

  
  


“I appreciate your independence,” said Hubert. “Ferdinand? I do hope all of that track-and-field hasn’t opened the stitches in your leg?” He eyed Ferdinand, looking everywhere but his eyes. “I wouldn’t want it to--”

  
  


“I’m fine, Hubert.” Ferdinand hiked his feet up onto the couch and hugged his knees to his chest. A little bit of concern wouldn’t be enough to make things better. If nothing else, he was relieved that he wouldn’t need to tell Hubert to address his own wounds.

  
  


“Very well,” said Hubert at length. Though Ferdinand wasn’t looking his way, he could feel the shifting on the couch as Hubert stood back up. He paced, sighed, then sighed once more. Ferdinand held firm and kept his eyes away. After he tired of sighing, Hubert addressed Dorothea: “you are familiar with the religious affiliation of the Hresvelg family, yes? Their practices?”

  
  


Dorothea picked at her teeth with her fingernails. “I have… attended the odd mass with her and her folks, if that’s what you mean.”

  
  


“That is, unfortunately, still more than what knowledge I have.” Hubert put a hand on the armchair, fingers curled. “Do you know of the measures that should be taken for a respectful funerary arrangement, to the extent that Edelgard would wish?”

  
  


Ferdinand unfolded himself and rose to his feet slowly. “She… isn’t dead, is she?” Neither of them looked Ferdinand in the eye. “Are we all hearing the same thing?” He lunged and took an unflinching Hubert by the collar. “Hubert, is she dead? You’re making it sound an awful lot like she’s dead. She’s not, is she?”

  
  


“She’s _not_!” Hubert snapped. “Not yet, anyway.”

  
  


“You said that she wasn’t bleeding.” Ferdinand shook Hubert as if the act might make an empathetic human emerge from the cold facade. “If she is dying, why don’t you go back in there and _save her_?”

  
  


“Fool!” Though Hubert didn’t raise a finger, his gaze alone was enough to remove Ferdinand’s hands. “Do you truly think I would be out here if I could save her?”

  
  


There was heat stinging the back of Ferdinand’s eyes. “Then we will take her to the hospital! Goodness, Hubert--”

  
  


“Ferdinand,” came Dorothea’s resigned voice from behind. “She’s been bitten. There’s no way to stop her turning. I didn’t want to believe it, but, that’s what it is, isn’t it, Hubert?”

  
  


“That it is,” said Hubert flatly.

  
  


Ferdinand let out a tense sigh. “So, she _isn’t_ dead. Well, then we need to do _something_ , I mean, what else… oh.” As he looked between the equally solemn faces of Dorothea and Hubert, he felt his insides bunch up into a tight knot. “No. Dorothea. _Hubert_. Come, now. This isn’t funny. We are not… no!”

  
  


“This was the arrangement,” said Hubert, so quietly it may well have been to himself.

  
  


“No!” Ferdinand grabbed Hubert by his face, ignoring the wince that was brought on when his fingers landed across the bandage on his cheek. “Hubert, look me in the eye and tell me that you are going to _kill_ the… the most important person in your _life_ with your own hands!”

  
  


The expression on Hubert’s face made Ferdinand want to throw up. “If you yell like that, you may wake her.”

  
  


“Look at me!” At the command, Hubert’s eyes, cold as the concrete surrounding them, dragged up. No matter how hard Ferdinand searched, he couldn’t find the warmth, the _heat_ , that he’d been so drawn to before. “Do you truly intend to kill Edelgard?”

  
  


Hubert’s jaw clenched. “I do.”

  
  


“You _monster_!” Ferdinand shoved Hubert, body backed by all the grief he’d been gathering all night. Hubert was so weary and frail at the moment that he crumpled like a house of cards, never once losing the defiant, resentful sneer on his face with which he’d declared Edelgard’s execution.

  
  


Ferdinand coiled as Hubert got back up, prepared for a retaliation. But, Hubert simply dusted himself off. The tension in Ferdinand’s body was eased slightly when Dorothea put a hand on his arm, directing him to put some space between himself and Hubert.

  
  


“At least defend yourself,” cried Ferdinand. “Tell me how, after everything you’ve been through, you can just take the life of someone so dear to you? Are you truly heartless?”

  
  


“It’s infinitely more heartless to allow her to fall to inhumanity,” growled Hubert, catching a streak of fresh blood that fell from his cheek.

  
  


“She hasn’t even woken up yet!” Ferdinand looked down his nose, resisting the instinctive pull of concern for Hubert’s pain. “You intend to hide her own death from her?”

  
  


“She’s going to _die_ anyway.” Hubert’s eyes were wild. “Have you ever _seen_ a newborn vampire? She would suffer more than you or I could even imagine.”

  
  


Ferdinand couldn’t suppress the wavering and cracking in his voice, the heat in his face clashing hard with Hubert’s cold-blooded fury. “Don’t you get it, Hubert? Deception isn’t _worth_ it when you’re keeping your friends in the dark! I’m… I’m willing to bet that you’re simply too much of a coward to face her when she wakes.”

  
  


“That isn’t true.”

  
  


“I want proof.”

  
  


In the intense silence that followed, Dorothea placed herself between the two of them. “Alright,” she said, “fine, we’re in agreement. We’ll wait to make the call until Edelgard wakes up as a vampire.”

  
  


Hubert clutched his arms to his chest. “This is heinous.”

  
  


“There is still a chance she may come out human, anyway,” said Ferdinand, determined to have the last word. “If she has the same immunity as Lysithea, well… if she does, you will look like a horrible, horrible man who simply wanted to kill his friend out of _fear_ \--”

  
  


“Okay, Ferdinand,” placated Dorothea. “We get it. You seem tired, Ferdie. Are you tired?”

  
  


Ferdinand tensed defensively when she put her hands on his shoulders. There was a part of him that was still furious, still wanted to gnash his teeth at Hubert for what he’d turned into so quickly over the span of the last day. But he knew better than to get Dorothea in the crossfire of their argument. Eventually, he slackened and gave an affirmative hum to Dorothea.

  
  


“We’ll get some tea, then. C’mon.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dorothea poked her head out of the kitchen’s threshold, wearing a rather meek look on her face. “Man, Edie has a _lot_ of different teas. Can you help me… um, Ferdinand? What are you doing?”

  
  


Ferdinand cast his eyes downward as he buttoned his jacket, which still reeked of sweat and blood. “I cannot stay here, Dorothea. There’s…” he paused and sighed. “I just can’t sit still.”

  
  


To Ferdinand’s surprise, when he made for the door, Dorothea bodily cut him off, a hand on the glass that showed Edelgard’s front garden. “You’re not going to abandon Edelgard just because you’re having a row with Hubert--”

  
  


“It isn’t Hubert,” Ferdinand snapped. “I am not completely shallow.” He swept his hair out from the collar of his jacket and adamantly reached for the handle. “I hate to be so frank, but as long as Edelgard is alive and stable at the moment, she doesn’t need me here to agonize over her until she recovers. I know her, and I know she won’t bemoan me for--”

  
  


“And if she doesn’t recover?”

  
  


Ferdinand hesitated and met her passionate eyes. “Then I’m not entirely sure I wish to be here to see the fallout.” He returned to the door, combating Dorothea’s hand. “I cannot sit here and wait, Dorothea. I just can’t stop thinking about the innocent lives that we… that _I_ put in peril. It’s wrong to just leave those people, _my_ people to Mercedes alone. Especially with the state that she’s in.”

  
  


Dorothea faltered at that, and Ferdinand popped the door open a crack before stalling somewhat, lingering to check her eyes for any resentment. She seemed to really be considering his words, her silence making room for the crickets outside to chitter on.

  
  


Ferdinand was braced somewhat for all manner of resistance from Dorothea, but he couldn’t have anticipated the hand that took him by the back of the jacket with all too familiar roughness and ripped him out of the entryway. Though Ferdinand whirled instantly to face Hubert with quite the outrage worked up from the manhandling, he halted at the intensity of the eyes that he found. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Hubert _this_ angry. He flushed under his collar, shameful as though he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  
  


“You absolute idiot,” Hubert spat as he retracted his hand, flexing his fingers as if the maneuver had strained them. “I should _not_ have to tell you that leaving now is exceedingly dangerous.”

  
  


The shock that captured Ferdinand whenever Hubert showed concern for him was starting to lose its impact. If Hubert was truly so invested in his wellbeing, it wouldn’t hurt him to act accordingly, rather than deliver these terse extensions of worry.

  
  


“I am perfectly capable of navigating the city at night,” Ferdinand said firmly.

  
  


Hubert put a hand to his elbow and pointed him towards the door. “Look around. There are vampires stationed _everywhere_ outside, waiting for exactly what you’re doing to occur. Do you intend to charge straight into their hands?”

  
  


When Ferdinand squinted through the glass, he could just catch hints of shadows among the bushes. From the scrunched look on Dorothea’s face, she, too was only just now noticing the presences. Ferdinand’s leg hurt at the thought of battling more vampires, but his heart ached more than his wounds. “I still need to go,” Ferdinand declared, squaring his shoulders as Hubert shrunk away from him. “Though I do appreciate your concern. I… will have a difficult time getting out with what I have now. I may do a lot better with an extra hawthorn or two.”

  
  


Hubert winced at the hand that Ferdinand held out. After a second, Hubert seemed to reach for a pocket, only to stop and play the motion off as crossing his arms when Ferdinand started to lean in. Sighing, Ferdinand took back his hands. “I suppose I’ll make do.”

  
  


“Wait.” Dorothea put a hand on his arm and once again inserted herself between him and Hubert. “If you’re going, I’ll come with. I’m as responsible for the bystanders’ safety as you are--”

  
  


“I’m sorry Dorothea,” Ferdinand said glumly.

  
  


“Ferdie.”

  
  


There was a scoff from Hubert. “Now you’re surely going to declare that this is _your risk to take_ or some such saccharine nonsense.”

  
  


“It isn’t,” Ferdinand said defensively. He had to admit, he was getting rather close to such a phrase before Hubert mocked him. “I would love help, but I don’t want to leave Edelgard alone with him. I just don’t.

  
  


“Dorothea, you know I don’t distrust Hubert. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. But it’s out of love for Edelgard that I ask you to stay and keep things locked down here. Without her, you’re the only one that can tell Hubert what to do, even if it’s only a little bit.” When Ferdinand finished speaking and delivered himself towards the door, he heard yet another scoff from Hubert, which he firmly ignored.

  
  


Dorothea stopped him once more, and he expected her to dissent, but instead she took his hand and placed into it a length of wire with many tiny wreaths dangling from it. “My bracelet,” she explained. “If you need hawthorns, there’s about eight of ‘em. Please, be careful, Ferdinand.”

  
  


“I will. Thank you.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


In the dim lights of the lot, it was as hard as ever to pick out the doors along the back of the hospital. Ferdinand fingered the remaining hawthorns on Dorothea’s bracelet as he picked across the sea of cement, acutely aware of the fact that he had no plan going forward. He shook himself, telling himself to remain focused on the task at hand.

  
  


Though Ferdinand had been sent this way for many an errand before, he still found himself doubting which door was their usual meeting place. It certainly didn’t help that he knew that Emile wouldn’t be there to meet him this time. Hell, there was a solid chance that no one would come at all. Still, Ferdinand steeled himself and rapped on the door, the metallic sound carrying hollowly through the lot. Underneath the echo, he could hear twigs snapping in the trees beyond, where the vampires that had followed him out were surely pacing.

  
  


Ferdinand held his breath and waited. His hand rested on his stake, as of yet unbloodied because of the hawthorns Dorothea had lent. That wouldn’t be the case for long; there were footfalls, or clawfalls, approaching across the concrete, making another hair stand up on Ferdinand’s neck with each second that passed. Why did he think that anyone would come to meet him? Mercedes was surely too busy.

  
  


Trembling, Ferdinand loosed a hawthorn from its cord. He rolled up a sleeve and wetted it from a cut he’d made along the back of his arm—why Hubert felt the need to always carve into somewhere as sensitive as a hand was a mystery to him—and glanced over his shoulder. He waited for a shadow to emerge from the brush before winding up and chucking the hawthorn.

  
  


It didn’t exactly go far; the muscles he’d developed from training were for pulling, not throwing. Still, it was enough to pull out the vampires who had been in hiding. As they wove through the sparse cars, Ferdinand slammed his fist on the door once more. He counted too many vampires to fight, and even a hulking gargoyle that was already growing bored with the hawthorn. His heart pounded in his chest and his leg, telling him firmly that he wouldn’t be getting out of this okay. Maybe he was really as stupid as Hubert thought him.

  
  


Brandishing a stake, Ferdinand locked eyes with the transformed vampire that was charging for him. Part of his mind told him to run, another part to fight, but neither mattered much to his whole body, which seemed fully intent to stay locked in place. He was already too exhausted to fight.

  
  


There was a flash of claws, and the slice across Ferdinand’s arm became a set of plump gashes as he flinched from the attack. He squinted against the tears that formed at the pain; it would probably be a long time until he learned how to take hits with the confidence that Hubert had, assuming that he could even survive this night. He felt so weak he might collapse as the gargoyle battered him with claws, clashing against his arms, his stake, his chest…

  
  


When Ferdinand landed on the concrete, he caught sight of a blinding light beyond the gargoyle that must have been a gateway to the afterlife. When he blinked away a wave of stinging tears, however, he saw the shape of the hospital hallway. Wide-eyed, Ferdinand tried and failed to move his leaden limbs as Mercedes appeared at the gargoyle’s back, hiking up over its shoulders and striking it in the neck with a syringe. It was down in a second, spluttering and screeching at Mercedes’s feet.

  
  


“Mercedes, I--”

  
  


“Get inside. Now!” She clutched Ferdinand by his wounded arm and yanked him into the cool, white halls of the hospital.


	21. Act 3 Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand learns some news about the hospital, then has an encounter in the chapel.

Ferdinand smoothed down the loaner scrubs, wincing as Mercedes balled up the remnants of his shirt and jacket. His arms stung under their fresh bandages, and his leg complained of keeping up with her pace on the way to the dark chapel. What certainly hadn’t helped was the way that she was tersely silent the whole way, and her rough handling of him resembled Hubert’s just a little too much.

  
  


“Please don’t do anything like this again,” said Mercedes, creaking off of a pew with what looked like a herculean effort.

  
  


Shame flushed Ferdinand’s face. “You know, Mercedes, it’s rather chilly in here; there’s no reason my insurance shouldn’t cover a proper room for me to stay in--”

  
  


“I want to see you gone as soon as possible,” Mercedes declared. “Treating a few wounds wasn’t intended to be an invitation to stay. And before you ask again, you won’t be checking on your employees.”

  
  


“Why not?”

  
  


“Because the ones that _aren’t_ already vampires need their rest. Visiting hours are over for a reason, Ferdinand; I don’t want you bothering them or… or putting them in danger.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. The dark creases under her eyes were harsh enough to catch in the dim room.

  
  


“Mercedes,” said Ferdinand softly, “I wonder if you should get some rest yourself?”

  
  


“I would love to, but I can’t exactly leave these people to anyone else. There have already been a couple who have turned. I… I have to put them down, and, goodness I hope I don’t run out of ways to make them look natural.”

  
  


Ferdinand sighed, resisting the urge to give her too much pity. “I’m sorry, Mercedes. Truly. This is… well, it’s my fault, more than anyone else’s.” He sat forward and stifled a yawn. “If you want me to go back, I’ll go. But, it’s a little dangerous out there, so, um. I noticed you were using dead man’s blood earlier. Do you have any more of it, or…?”

  
  


Mercedes sighed. “I’ll be back.”

  
  


After a while of counting the minutes, Ferdinand started to wonder if she really  _would_ be back. Though, his counting was probably off; he was exhausted and the chapel didn’t have a clock. Maybe the  _Lord_ didn’t want people to be impatient to leave. Eventually, he caved and flipped open his cell phone, squinting at the too-bright display, only to be distracted from his purpose by the temptation to navigate to Hubert’s contact page. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say. Would he say that he’d  _forgiven_ him? He definitely hadn’t.

  
  


Dammit. Left to his own devices, he’d fallen right back into the dreaded spiral of Hubert. At least when it had happened in the past, there’d been some hint of fun or excitement, even hope. Now he was just desperate. He groaned, yawned, and rubbed his eyes. The darkness was getting to him.

  
  


Ferdinand paced the length of the room in an attempt to chase away his exhaustion. The shadowy reliefs on the walls stared him down as though they knew that he was responsible for the dreadful fates of his employees. He found himself growing jealous of Mercedes’s position. Sure, she was working through the night of her brother’s untimely death and secretly killing innocents, but at least she had something to  _do_ . As that thought crossed Ferdinand’s mind, he made eye contact with a particularly upset angel. Okay, maybe that was the wrong conclusion to reach.

  
  


Deciding to take the bright hallway as a less off-putting place to pace, Ferdinand shied away from the curious looks of the late-shift staff walking by. It was only a mystery what they were thinking of the sweaty, manic redhead who was trotting around in half a set of scrubs.  He felt embarrassed and isolated, though probably only a fraction of the way that Mercedes would go through every day, working on issues that her coworkers could never understand.

  
  


Ferdinand was about ready to give in and accept that Mercedes had forgotten him here when he caught sight of her at the end of the hall, already snapping at him: “I don’t remember saying that you could hang around  _here_ .” When she reached him, she corralled him back into the chapel.

  
  


“I’m sorry, Mercedes, I—”

  
  


“Eat this,” she interrupted him by thrusting a packaged pastry into his chest, “so the stress and blood loss don’t make you nauseous.”

  
  


Ferdinand fingered the zigzag edges of the plastic. He didn’t exactly have a palate for vending machine snacks, but he was feeling pretty drained. “I’m not sure I recall saying I was hungry,” he said as he peeled the packaging.

  
  


“I made an assumption that you haven’t eaten anything all night.” Mercedes crossed her arms. “I know I  haven’t had much.”

  
  


With a sigh, Ferdinand gobbled the sugary morsel. “An astute assumption.”  Leave it to a nurse to know his needs better than himself. It was nice to know that, despite her chilliness, she hadn’t stopped caring.

  
  


Mercedes sat next to Ferdinand as he scarfed down the snack. Between her folded hands was a pair of covered syringes. At length, she spoke: “I called Hubert.”

  
  


“Pardon?” Ferdinand swallowed with a suddenly tight throat.

  
  


She leaned back with a groan. “I asked him to come and get you, so I’m not sending you out on your own in the middle of the night.” She trailed off with a shrug. “I do want you all to be safe. I just… I’m not sure I ever want to see you again.”

  
  


Ferdinand furrowed his brow and balled the empty wrapper in his fist. He was caught between thanking Mercedes for helping or chiding her for thinking that _Hubert_ would care enough to come to get him. It was incredible news that she was concerned for him. Hell, it was practically a miracle that even someone as kind and generous as Mercedes was willing to give him the time of day after everything that had happened.

  
  


“ I think I’m going to leave,” said Mercedes out of the blue. “Head back home. Once all of the mess from tonight has settled, of course.”

  
  


“You really hate us that much, huh?” Ferdinand winced when the words came out a little too pathetically.

  
  


Fortunately, Mercedes was able to weakly smile, the grin growing a little wider when Ferdinand let out a yawn that he’d been struggling really hard to keep in. “It’s not that, Ferdinand. The hospital is changing hands. I think the news is going to be announced to the public tomorrow, but the word’s been going around here all night.” She met Ferdinand’s eyes firmly. “I think you should know, Ferdinand, it’s your company who’s buying it.”

  
  


Ferdinand all but leaped out of the pew. “ _What_ ? But, but who could make that decision, and  _now_ , of all times, I don’t--” He cut himself off and put his palms to his forehead. “ Father, er, Ludwig. He certainly hasn’t mentioned anything about this to me. Goodness, he hasn’t rolled over to the vampires, has he? This is  _unprecedented_ , it’s—it’s practically  _impossible_ !”

  
  


Mercedes was making a scrunched face as she waited for Ferdinand to talk himself out. “I can’t offer you any more insight than you have,” she said when he finished.

  
  


“I am going to storm the office the moment it is open and… and show those vagrants what it’s like to bargain with someone who cannot be thralled, dammit! This is  _my_ company, and I only just managed to rescue it from Edelgard’s--”

  
  


“You can resist a thrall?”

  
  


Ferdinand huffed and clapped his hands on the back of a pew. “Maybe! Hubert has given me some tips.” He touched his face, which had grown hot with excitement and exhaustion.

  
  


“That’s very promising,” sighed Mercedes.

  
  


“Oh, Mercedes, at least  _you_ must believe in me.” He spun to face her, kneeling and taking one of her hands. “Someone has to rescue you—rescue the whole hospital—from vampiric tyranny, and without Edelgard, it must be me. I will take back my company from the claws of those monsters,  whatever the cost.”

  
  


A sound came from Mercedes’s nose that resembled a genuine laugh. “No, no. Not  _any_ cost, Ferdinand. I want you to promise me that no one else will die.”

  
  


Ferdinand drew his brows together in a stern look. “No one dies. That, I can do. But, just to check, the vampires can die, right…?”

  
  


She met his gaze and pressed the syringes into his hand, the plastic chilly from its trip to the morgue. “Emile would want to see them dead. And, maybe… maybe it would make me rest easier, too.”

  
  


Ferdinand caught himself smiling, the first time he really had since the beginning of this long, sordid night. “Thank you, Mercedes. I’ll make things right. Under my watch, nothing like Emile or Lysithea will ever happen again.” When Ferdinand caught sight of the hint of tears across Mercedes’s cheeks, he reached out to her, only to startle to his feet when the chapel door creaked open. He frantically searched for an excuse to tell whatever wandering hospital employee was going to try to chase them out, but he deflated when he saw the figure in the threshold. “Hubert.”

  
  


Mercedes rose and greeted Hubert, putting up the same coldness that she’d initially regarded Ferdinand with. Even from where Ferdinand lingered in the back of the chapel, he could see the tired, miserable expression that set into Hubert’s face as he spoke, quietly and tersely, under his breath with Mercedes. There was a strange guilt that clawed at Ferdinand when he saw just how differently the two of them were interacting with one another than they had before tonight.  They hadn’t exactly been overtly affectionate in the past, but their coldness now made Ferdinand realize that they had been truly close, in their own way. 

  
  


With a sigh, Mercedes regarded Ferdinand over her shoulder, restating her intent to hurry him out of the hospital. She brushed past Hubert into the hall and Ferdinand was left to cope with the fact that he was stuck alone in the cold, dark chapel. Alone with  _Hubert_ .

  
  


Hubert regarded him with as much stoniness as ever. In the shadows, Ferdinand could just about make out a tinge of redness around his eyes. When the silence was growing too much to bear, Ferdinand blurted out: “you actually came.”

  
  


Hubert pursed his lips. “You look like shit.”

  
  


“Thanks,” said Ferdinand flatly, smoothing down the ill-fitting shirt that he was suddenly very aware of. “Guess you only came to be rude.”

  
  


With a sigh, Hubert closed the door behind him, dunking the both of them into more definite darkness. “I can’t believe you managed to get here alive.”

  
  


“Thanks to Mercedes,” Ferdinand confirmed, rolling up a sleeve to show his bandages. “I did only get a little bit beaten up, if you’re worried about that. No bites, or anything of the sort.” He winced when he realized that he was saying just  _too many things_ . He truly didn’t know how to behave around Hubert now.

  
  


“I wasn’t  _worried_ .” Hubert spat the word as though it were a curse. “You just happened to be on the way.” He hunched, seeming to disappear into his bridge coat like a turtle in its shell. Endeared by the sight, Ferdinand smiled the slightest bit, though it quickly warped into an awkward yawn.

  
  


At once, Ferdinand found himself lost for words. There were so many things to say, about the lies and the bite and their relationship going forward—if there even was one. But he couldn’t find the words. He wanted to dress him down and make him regret what he’d done, but he didn’t want to hurt him. He couldn’t stop  _caring_ about him.

  
  


After a while of just standing and staring, Hubert let out a great sigh and made to open the door again. Almost on instinct, Ferdinand crossed over to him and reached out to stop him. The touch seemed to knock Hubert entirely off balance in its lightness.

  
  


“Listen,” said Ferdinand, “I know you think this  _thing_ I went out for was a complete waste of time--”

  
  


“A  _dangerous_ waste of time,” Hubert cut in, his voice sharp and emotional.

  
  


Ferdinand shrunk a bit and held out the syringes of blood. He was frustrated with himself for being so desperate for Hubert’s approval, but the stunned look on his face made him feel the slightest bit better. “I want you to hold onto these,” Ferdinand said, hoping to make it sound a little bit better that his pocket space was entirely gone without his jacket.

  
  


Hubert sized Ferdinand up with cautious eyes, as if he expected the offerings to be a trick.  The return of the barriers and tension from before they first hooked up was a palpable sensation, drawing Ferdinand to hold his breath at mere proximity. Still, despite the tension, Ferdinand was entirely unprepared for the way that Hubert grabbed him by his jaw as soon as the syringes were pocketed. Already, there was a clumsy, forward tongue inside Ferdinand’s mouth, all but stealing the breath straight out of his lungs. The wiser part of Ferdinand’s mind told him how foolish he was to kiss back, but he couldn’t hear the reason over the way his blood roared in his ears. How he’d missed that bitter taste.

  
  


With a quiet crumpling sound, Hubert’s bridge coat landed on the floor as Hubert guided Ferdinand away from the door. Before Ferdinand could question how far this was going, he was landing dizzily on a pew and Hubert was sucking furiously on his lower lip. Though Ferdinand tried to break off the kiss to catch his breath and gather his thoughts, Hubert simply took it as an invitation to  attack his neck instead. As Ferdinand’s head lolled back, his brain a complete fuzz, he made unfortunate eye contact with a shadowy relief of an angel, forcing him to acknowledge what they were doing in a  _chapel_ , of all places. The thought brought a flush to his ears, a feeling both good and bad.

  
  


Ferdinand’s skin bristled where stubble had rubbed together, especially coarse from the long day. Though he struggled to form thoughts under Hubert’s forceful mouth and hands, all that he could conjure was a question of whether Hubert would look good with a beard. Dammit, he was so sure there was a more coherent line of thought underneath, if he could just grasp it…

  
  


Hubert dug his chin into the crook of Ferdinand’s neck, his breath warm and tickling against the tender skin. “I can’t believe you went out there on your own,” Hubert breathed between kisses. “You’re so  _stupid_ . I--”

  
  


“Hubert.  _Hubert_ !” Ferdinand stopped the fingers that were trying to unfasten his pants, finally managing to clamor onto his lucidity. “I can’t—we can’t just pretend nothing happened! You never  _apologized_ .”

  
  


The dark circles under Hubert’s eyes seemed to intensify. “Fine, then,” he grumbled. “In that case:  _I’m sorry_ . Now…”

  
  


Before Ferdinand could construct a counter, his mouth was promptly occupied once more. The growing heat, the deepening kisses, and the dawning understanding of just how much Hubert  _wanted_ him was downright torturous.  It was just like the first time; he’d known that sleeping with Hubert was a dreadful, terrible idea, but Hubert had such a way of overriding his judgment. He knew this was wrong, but, considering the thrill of the setting, he had to wonder if the  _wrongness_ was making it even better.

  
  


_Dammit_ . Ferdinand used a herculean effort to pry Hubert’s hand out from between his legs. “Hubert,  _stop_ ,” he whined. “You have to listen to me. We aren’t… okay yet.” Everything was growing heavier by the second: his breath, his eyelids, his heart… 

  
  


At last, Hubert slowed, sweeping a hand under Ferdinand’s hair and addressing him with a furrowed brow. “I… may have assumed, er, interpreted something wrong.” When Ferdinand felt Hubert’s thumb resting on his jaw, he couldn’t resist the urge to relax into the touch, head drooping to the side more suddenly than he intended. Hubert sighed. “You need to rest,” he observed when Ferdinand’s eyes blinked a little too long.

  
  


Ferdinand frowned. “I doubt I’m any worse rested than you are.”

  
  


“You’re right, but.” Hubert refastened the buttons on Ferdinand’s pants and helpfully gathered the both of them. “I’ve had a lot more long nights than you have. Come.”

  
  


“ I hope you don’t think you can stay awake forever,” said Ferdinand, rubbing a hand across his drooping eyes.

  
  


With a palm to Ferdinand’s back, Hubert guided him out of the chapel in a hurry. The halls were relatively empty, thankfully. “What it does mean,” said Hubert, “is that I know what it looks like when someone’s overstepping their limits.”

  
  


As Ferdinand started to lose a grasp on any sensation other than Hubert’s hand at his back, he wondered how it was possible for him to miss someone who was right next to him. It absolutely killed him to see Hubert extend such concern for him, because he knew that it wasn’t any reconciliation for what he’d put Ferdinand through.

  
  


When Ferdinand blinked, he realized that they’d crossed the hospital in an instant. He was drifting so hard that he was starting to lose time. He searched for words to wake him back up. “So… we are returning to Edelgard’s?”

  
  


“No,” said Hubert stiffly. “She wanted to move somewhere more easily guarded, so we’re going to the hideaway.”

  
  


“Wait, she  _what_ ? Edelgard? She’s awake?” The bumbled question was about all he could manage before he nodded off again, swathed in the too-warm air around Hubert.

  
  



	22. Act 3 Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang runs into a few road bumps on the way back to the hideout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOR THOSE CHECKING IN FROM THE UPDATE: This is me taking the existing chapters and breaking them into smaller bits. There are more chapters now, but an equal amount of content. Worry not about missing things!

Every time Ferdinand blinked, he lost some time. A few seconds, or minutes, he couldn’t tell. He was loosely aware of Hubert and Edelgard bickering just above a whisper in the front of the car, like a couple parents on the verge of divorce. Through the strained rasp in Edelgard’s voice, Ferdinand could tell that she was _pissed_ about Hubert keeping things from her. Maybe the two of them should start a club.

  
  


Ferdinand opened his eyes once more to find himself a lot warmer than he’d been just a second ago. Dorothea was offering an empathetic look from the seat next to him, presumably having tossed the newfound stiff blanket across his shoulders. He mumbled a thanks at her.

  
  


“You doing alright?” she asked in a whisper, earning a small nod from Ferdinand. “I take it you haven’t pulled as many all-nighters as the rest of us. I should’ve thought about that before letting you leave back there. I think Hubert feels the same way.”

  
  


Thoughts floated vaguely around Ferdinand at her words, but they all slipped away as soon as they were conceived. “ Edelgard woke up,” he observed sleepily. Edelgard’s profile was dark against the windshield, where the misty, pastel light of the morning was framing her.

  
  


“She is,” Dorothea said, a smile carrying in her voice. “I was so sure that she’d… well, you know. But, here we are.”

  
  


Ferdinand’s exhaustion had beset his normal filter, making him bluntly whisper, “she looks  _dreadful_ .”

  
  


The sound of Dorothea’s snort caused the other set of hushed words to halt. For a second, Edelgard and Hubert glanced back, and Ferdinand all but trembled in fear of getting in trouble before Hubert muttered something bitter and Edelgard was back upon him. The car galumphed over a bump, and Ferdinand and Dorothea let out simultaneous breaths.

  
  


Firmly in the clear, Dorothea swatted Ferdinand on the head. “I’m sure you’d look pretty terrible yourself if you were bitten by a vampire.”

  
  


Ferdinand hummed and flopped against the headrest. “No. No, I don’t think I would.”

  
  


As Dorothea snickered, the car went over another bump, far more harsh than before. Ferdinand was getting ready to complain at Hubert for his sloppy driving when another sound came, then another, and he realized that they were coming from  _above_ . It seemed that everyone noticed in turn as heads tilted towards the ceiling.

  
  


There was a pause in the creaking overhead, and Ferdinand craned his neck to see what he could glean from the windows. The long shadow of the car, cast by the rising sun, had the distinctive shape of a perching gargoyle atop it, wings stretched high above.

  
  


Ferdinand sucked in a breath when he realized he recognized the tattered, hole-filled wings. “Guys,” he squeaked, “it’s the thing from the forest.”

  
  


“You’re assuming I don’t  _know_ ?” Hubert snapped, clearly still irate. “It’s broad  _fucking_ daylight; what else would it be?”

  
  


Dorothea’s eyes were like saucers, staring at the ceiling as though it would peel away any second. “Do you think it’s going to come in?”

  
  


There was a sudden squeal of the tires as Hubert threw the car into a harsh turn to the West, catching everyone, including the gargoyle, completely off-guard. Once he  recovered, Ferdinand whipped around to watch the twisted shape of limbs tumbled and scraped across the road behind. 

  
  


Hubert floored it, and all at once, Ferdinand was fully awake. Blurry, dawn-lit buildings sailed past as Hubert set out through the industrial district in a complicated serpentine. Though Hubert’s path appeared unfollowable, the thing never disappeared.  Any time that it seemed like it was going to fall behind or miss a turn, it would right itself, flapping its patchy wings with what seemed to be little effort, all while keeping its glassy, dinnerplate eyes fixed forward with nary a blink or a squint.

  
  


“Hubert,” Ferdinand crowed shakily, willing himself to look away.

  
  


“What is it,” Hubert barked.

  
  


“It’s not… going anywhere—oh, no.”

  
  


“ _What_ ?”

  
  


“It’s gone! I don’t… it was only a second! Where did it—”

  
  


“Panicking won’t help anything,” rasped Edelgard, twisting to look out the back, hand on Hubert’s headrest. “Maybe we’ve lost it!”

  
  


The impact this time was far more rough. Indents popped up overhead where claws met metal. Hubert wrestled the car back from the swerve it was set on, as composed as ever, if a little sweaty.

  
  


A claw appeared in the center of the windshield before retracting suddenly. Metal creaked and warped as the weight overhead shifted, and when the claw reappeared, it was tapping the windshield like an unruly kid presented with a fish tank. Silence permeated the inside as the wide-eyed group searched for a solution.

  
  


Dorothea screamed when a whipping tail shattered the window next to her.  She gathered herself even more quickly than Ferdinand did, fast enough to pluck the rosary from her neck and pull it tight around the tail. Tiny holes appeared overhead, screeching coming from both the metal and the creature in its pain, before the tail ripped out of her hands and disappeared. 

  
  


“Shit!” Dorothea growled, flicking glass from her lap. “Hubert, you’re gonna shake this damn thing off  _soon_ , right? I don’t especially like the idea of having a pet at the hideout!”

  
  


“I am not bringing it to the hideout,” Hubert snapped.

  
  


“That’s sure what it looks like,” said Dorothea.

  
  


Ferdinand’s eyes were drawn forcibly away from his arguing friends when the monster’s beastly snout appeared in his window. Its enormous nostrils puffed foggy breath across the glass as Ferdinand suppressed a frightened whimper. “Jesus, Hubert, get it  _off_ !”

  
  


“Working on it,” snarled Hubert. The car swerved tightly to the left, making the gargoyle’s head clip a passing signpost. Though its face was cleared from Ferdinand’s window for the time being, the claws overhead only curled tighter into place.

  
  


Ferdinand eyed the passing brownstone walls with concern. “We  _are_ getting really close,” he said shakily. “You don’t think it can tell the vampires our location?”

  
  


With a lurch, Hubert slammed the brakes suddenly, though all that did was make the holes in the rooftop grow. Light filtered in as new punctures appeared when the monster shifted its weight. Its tail dragged over the hood and those dreadful eyes stared now through the back windshield. Ferdinand found himself hunching forward in his seat.

  
  


Hubert groaned and set the car back on course. “I don’t think it’s smart enough for such a thing,” he remarked. “I am not sure it even understands how glass works.” He pointed towards the rear mirror with his chin, and Ferdinand twisted to see a set of massive teeth against the windshield as the gargoyle tried to bite its way through, sliding clumsily off with each gnash.

  
  


“Where are we  _going_ , Hubert?” Dorothea pleaded with her hands to her face, hair whipping in the wind.

  
  


“ I know what I’m doing,” he said, unhelpfully.

  
  


“ _Okay_ ,” she drawled. “Then what’s the plan?”

  
  


Hubert grunted as he swerved another tight, but fruitless, turn. “I’m  _thinking_ ! Ferdinand, there’s a bow under my seat. Shoot the damned thing!”

  
  


“How?”

  
  


“Just do it!”

  
  


Ferdinand grumbled to himself as he unfolded the bow. It was challenging enough just setting the damn thing up in the tight space, all the while listening to the teeth clacking behind him. He could  only barely nock an unwieldy stake arrow.  He considered finding a way to break the back windshield and getting it that way, but he didn’t have nearly enough room to draw the string all the way back.

  
  


Sighing, Ferdinand jammed his elbow into the switch to roll down his window. When he leaned out of it, face sickeningly close to one of the massive claws, he attempted to painfully crane himself back enough to get any line of sight towards the thing’s chest.  His stomach dropped when an intense wingbeat sent him further out of the car than he’d planned. He hollered, chest tight and hands clutching his bow, until Dorothea wrangled her fingers in his belt loops and yanked him back inside.

  
  


“Thank—ack!” Ferdinand dropped the bow on the seat and scrambled for Dorothea’s hands as he was pulled back out by his hair. Tears stung his eyes as the claws strained his scalp, and he struggled to hold himself in place as Dorothea climbed across him, brandishing a silver knife. After a frantic moment, the monster shrieked, and the pressure on Ferdinand’s head gave out. With Dorothea’s help, Ferdinand ducked back inside and swept all of his hair away from the window, hands quaking.

  
  


“Thank you,” he said properly, dipping his head to Dorothea and collecting his bow. “Hubert, I hate to say it, but I don’t think I’m going to be shooting anything.”

  
  


It was clear that Hubert wasn’t thrilled to be the guiding light. But, with Edelgard only barely conscious enough to process what was going on, he was the default expert here. “ Let me think,” he pleaded when he met Ferdinand’s pleading eyes through the mirror. 

  
  


A few moments too many passed, and Ferdinand grew impatient. “We have to try  _something_ , don’t we? It’s basically just a big vampire, so, so… agh.” He glanced around for ideas. “Dorothea! The tail’s near you! Can you grab it?”

  
  


She flinched when said tail whapped her in the chest. With some wrestling, she managed to get a hold on it before it writhed away. “Okay, now what?”

  
  


“Hubert,” said Ferdinand frantically, brushing strands of sweat-sticky hair off of his face, “you still have the blood, right? Pass it here.”

  
  


Hubert scoffed. “You must be kidding.”

  
  


“I’m not! Give it here!”

  
  


“Absolutely not.” Hubert did another brake check, but the claws, as well as Dorothea, held firmly in place. “I have no reason to believe the blood would  _do_ anything, since it isn’t a human corpse. Try something else.”

  
  


“Losing my grip a bit,” Dorothea noted.

  
  


“We should at least give it a shot,” cried Ferdinand. “Hubert! Quickly!”

  
  


“No--” Hubert’s voice trailed off into a strangled sound as Edelgard reached across the console to snag a syringe from his pocket. His outrage dribbled off of his face when he met eyes with her and she practically growled.

  
  


“Do whatever it takes,” said Edelgard drearily as she passed the syringe to Ferdinand.

  
  


Ferdinand nodded his thanks before plunging the syringe into the meaty tail that occupied Dorothea’s lap. There was a clear reaction to the puncture, but there was no limpness following. Gritting his teeth, Ferdinand adjusted his grip on the plunger and drove it down as far as it would go. Maybe more blood would do it.

  
  


“Don’t use it up!” Hubert hollered from the front.

  
  


“It’s huge,” Ferdinand said. “It might take a lot!”

  
  


“That isn’t how it works!”

  
  


Ferdinand adamantly pressed further on the plunger. Before he could empty the vial, the tail managed to worm its way out of Dorothea’s hands, slapping Ferdinand in the face on its way out of the window, bringing the syringe out with it. Ferdinand cursed and touched the stinging spot on his face, tasting blood from where he’d bitten his lip.

  
  


“It didn’t work,” said Dorothea despondently.

  
  


“I could have told--” Hubert bit himself off, presumably as a result of a harsh stare from Edelgard. “Well, what do you want to try next, Ferdinand? Crossword puzzles? Riddles?”

  
  


The heat from Ferdinand’s combined embarrassment, fear, and frustration was cooking his face. “At least I’m  _trying_ !” He flinched at a crunch from above. There was no telling how long the roof would last. “Dammit… do you think hawthorns would work? Does it even like blood?”

  
  


Hubert rolled his eyes at that, but Dorothea perked up. “Worth a shot! Do you have any left from the bracelet?”

  
  


Ferdinand unhooked the cord of wreaths. “There’s still about five.” He plucked one off thoughtfully before setting it aside and unraveling the bandages on his arm, revealing his plump, scabbing wounds. “More of them would be more effective, right? We can hedge our bets with four.” He wasn’t entirely confident in his logic, but he was growing desperate and tired.

  
  


“ _Wait_ , wait!” Hubert yowled when Ferdinand pushed a thorn against his arm. For a second, Ferdinand wondered if it bothered Hubert to see him hurt himself, but his tone didn’t betray any concern. “Are you  _insane_ ? What do you plan to do with that, other that draw it in here?”

  
  


“ Can it even fit inside?” posited Dorothea.

  
  


Ferdinand frowned at Hubert, then at the thorns in his hand. “Okay, fine, I don’t have a plan! What do you want me to do?”

  
  


“I don’t—ugh! I will think of something. Give me a moment!”

  
  


“Don’t think we have so many of those,” said Dorothea, eyes trained on the battered ceiling.

  
  


“She’s right,” warned Ferdinand.

  
  


Seconds ticked by like forever while the car circled aimlessly through the abandoned factory lots, dangerously close to the hideout. “Alright,” Hubert piped up at last. “Ferdinand, string a normal arrow. Edelgard, if the situation demands that you run, will you be able?” When he looked her way, she gave a weak nod.

  
  


Ferdinand regarded the bow with pursed lips. “Hubert, I can’t hit it from here.”

  
  


“You won’t be. You will have to--”

  
  


“Trust you? Oh, Hubert, I do. Wish I didn’t, but I do.” The exhausted jitters that had set in were leaving Ferdinand with no energy with which to mince words. “But you should still tell me what we’re trying to accomplish here, and fast.”

  
  


Hubert sighed. “You can figure it out--”

  
  


“Your poor clarity has put a strain on  _all_ of your dearest relationships, Hubert! Suck it up and  _tell me what you’re doing_ !”

  
  


Stunned silence followed. Even the monster overhead seemed to pause for a moment. He hadn’t really meant to be so frank, but weariness had given him shocking lucidity.

  
  


Then, like he was pulling teeth, Hubert gave up the details of his plan. Fully on board, the group went about prepping. Edelgard gathered items from the glove compartment and console into her purse until it was heavy. Ferdinand nocked an arrow, and Dorothea helped him tie an end of the hawthorn cord to the arrow, wrapping the dangling thorns snugly around Ferdinand’s arm so that they pressed just a little bit into his skin.

  
  


The quartet waited, breath held, for Hubert’s call.  With each second, Ferdinand grew more anxious about the roof caving, or the beast figuring out how to get inside. Slowly, the car rounded a corner until it was on gravel, pointing towards the broad side of an empty factory. Hubert gave a look to Ferdinand in the rear mirror, and Ferdinand clamored out of the window with Dorothea holding him steady by his hips. He aimed his arrow at the building as the car crunched forward, slow, but not stopping.

  
  


Though the gargoyle had perked when Ferdinand emerged, its head snapped in the other direction when Ferdinand loosed the arrow. The cord of hawthorns were dragged forth with it, ripping across Ferdinand’s arm in a splatter of fresh blood and sailing towards the brick facade.

  
  


Ferdinand hastily collapsed the bow as Dorothea pulled him back, and he watched through the windshield as Hubert lined the car up with the arrow’s home, where the monster was storming towards. With the car straightened, Hubert waved his hand and the crew rolled out onto the gravel. Ferdinand was on his feet as fast as possible, brushing rocks from his wound, to watch as the car picked up speed with Hubert still in the driver’s seat.

  
  


It felt like the car was far too close to its target before Hubert finally rolled out, leaving the heavy purse on the gas pedal so the car kept accelerating. Before he realized it, Ferdinand was heading towards Hubert, aching with worry.

  
  


With a nasty crunch, the car collided with the monster’s lower half and crushed it against the wall. Though it squealed and struggled, the tires spun on, scrunching the hood further and keeping the gargoyle’s legs pinned in place. Hubert popped the lid off of the  fuel filler and lit a bundle of old documents aflame before stuffing them into the neck. With the makeshift fuse lit, Hubert started back towards the group, but just as Ferdinand was starting to let out his held breath, Hubert hesitated. 

  
  


When Hubert doubled back towards the car, Ferdinand took off in pursuit automatically, ignoring the outcry from Dorothea and Edelgard. “What the hell are you  _doing_ ?” Ferdinand bellowed, his jog turning quickly into a full-pelt sprint. He glanced rapidly between the encroaching flame and Hubert, who was fumbling around in the trunk, of all places.

  
  


Hubert did a double-take over his shoulder when he noticed Ferdinand. He called out as he dug around: “Back off! I forgot something, but I have time!”

  
  


Ferdinand continued to run, barely halting his momentum when he grabbed hold of Hubert. Despite his pulling, Hubert resisted for a second to pull a long, unwieldy bag from the trunk before he gave into Ferdinand, who dragged him across the lot at speeds that he didn’t think either of them were capable of.

  
  


The pair tumbled onto the ground, blessedly far enough to only just feel the heat of the deafening explosion. Ferdinand waited for the debris to settle before rolling onto his back, gravel sticking in his arm. The burning in his chest was so intense he feared it may kill him more intensely than the fire would have. Somehow, though, he was alive. And so was Hubert. Ferdinand still hadn’t let go of him, and he wasn’t sure he ever would.

  
  


Hubert groaned and sat up, clutching the vinyl bag. “What happened,” he wheezed, “to trusting me?”

  
  


Ferdinand shook his head. “I don’t trust you with yourself, which is good, because I think I just saved your life. You’re very welcome, by the way.”

  
  


Hubert appeared too dazed to fight back. “Thank you,” he said with a trembling voice.

  
  


Ferdinand waved at the girls as they approached, Edelgard slung on Dorothea’s shoulder. “Is it dead?” Dorothea asked.

  
  


“Should be,” said Hubert with as much confidence as possible around the clearly bone-rattling shakes that he had. “Can Edelgard make the rest of the walk?”

  
  


Edelgard raised her head weakly. “I’m fine,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  
  



	23. Act 3 Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone with Hubert in the hideout. Ferdinand makes a decision.

  
  


Ferdinand couldn’t quite decipher which aches were from his injuries and which ones were from the horribly stiff cot that he was resting on. There was a scent of dust and old metal that clung to the sheets, as they’d been stored among the weaponry. The pillow felt like steel, and, really, the quality of the overnight supplies screamed that they were never really intended to be used.

  
  


When Ferdinand rolled out of the cot, he realized that the stink wasn’t going away so easily, as it clung intently to the sweaty, stiff scrubs he’d slept in. With a little poking around, Ferdinand managed to find a change of clothes that he’d left in the shower room at the back of the building. It was chilly changing, as the room was dark and cold, so cold; Ferdinand recalled using them on occasion to cool down after particularly handsy training sessions with Hubert. The tank and shorts he’d long since left here didn’t fit quite perfectly, as Ferdinand had filled out a surprising amount since he’d started to train regularly, but at least they were clean.

  
  


Ferdinand wetted his hair just enough to finger-comb it and braid it in an attempt to fend off tangles before he emerged to search for his allies. The main room was quiet, save for the rumbling of a cheap coffee maker on the far end, where Hubert perched.

  
  


“I have to ask,” said Ferdinand as he approached, cautiously testing the waters, “is there anything to eat here? Or is coffee all we have?”

  
  


Hubert’s eyes raked over Ferdinand, and the question of whether the snug clothes were appropriate wear floated by his mind. “I don’t recall signing up to be your housewife,” grumbled Hubert, barely loud enough to be audible. “Look for something yourself.”

  
  


Ferdinand arched his eyebrows and seated himself at the counter. “Yeesh. Still waiting for that first cup of the day?” He flinched when Hubert glared. “I must say, I thought you would be a little less crabby to the guy who saved your life yesterday.”

  
  


“This morning.”

  
  


“Pardon?”

  
  


“It was this morning,” snipped Hubert. He slid something across the counter into Ferdinand’s hands—a shiny, packaged granola bar. “If you want to eat so bad, this is your only option. Now, may I ask that I don’t hear any further complaints for, say, the next six minutes?”

  
  


As Ferdinand turned over the bar to look at the nutrition facts, his stomach, far less picky than his mouth, gave a mighty growl. He wanted to think himself better than this, but when he tried to trace back to the last thing he ate, he realized that it was a similar packet of cheap snack food.

  
  


“Thought I asked for no more complaints,” muttered Hubert.

  
  


“I can’t do anything about my stomach, now can I?” Ferdinand snorted and chomped down on the bar. It made his teeth hurt. As he chewed, he studied the crinkles in Hubert’s brow. With the shadows cast over his deep-set sockets, he looked ghostly. Ferdinand wondered what it even was that he’d found so appealing about him before everything fell apart.

  
  


His question started to melt away when he caught sight of Hubert’s hands, bare and tight with sinew as he poured himself his coffee. The man looked far better in motion than he did still. There was a focus and dexterity to him that Ferdinand couldn’t look away from once he started looking, even as Hubert stared him down—no, _especially_ as Hubert stared, as the dilation in his pupils was unmistakable against his amber irises.

  
  


“I don’t speak the language of  _invasive looks_ , nor can I read your mind,” grumbled Hubert out of the blue. “If you want to say something, just speak up.”

  
  


Ferdinand resisted the urge to call Hubert a hypocrite. It was plenty clear which of the two of them was better when it came to clarity. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to complain?”

  
  


“Complaining, yes, but I said nothing about voicing a simple request,” said Hubert, as if he was suddenly the most reasonable person on the planet. The first sip must have done wonders.

  
  


“Fine, then. Would you… pour me some?”

  
  


Hubert’s eyes broke away at that. “You want coffee?”

  
  


“I’m, er, still pretty drowsy.” The tension in the air was doing a number on Ferdinand, far more than the stress or the pain. The way that Hubert’s eyes fixed on him and how he held his breath every time that Ferdinand spoke that he was trying to search for any kind of hint he could get from Ferdinand as to the state of things. Ferdinand couldn’t know what Hubert was getting from his stilted words; he didn’t even know what he wanted to be putting out.

  
  


Words took a backseat as the two of them crunched and sipped their ways through the bare-bones breakfast. Ferdinand winced every time that the coffee hit his mouth, but something about the way it say on his tongue kept him coming back for more. His mug was empty before he knew it.

  
  


“Dorothea went out,” said Hubert after a while. “She took the backup car; she’s going to get some things from our homes. Hopefully we can replace what had been in the car.”

  
  


Ferdinand hummed, his nose half in his mug. “Will she be alright on her own?”

  
  


Hubert nodded. “She is resourceful. Not to mention, that thing she’s driving is armed to the ears with Emile’s things.”

  
  


Ah, Emile. Ferdinand could only wonder what Hubert and Edelgard must have been suffering through; it appeared that they’d known Emile for quite a long time. Maybe Hubert simply grieved in silence. He had to wonder whether Hubert would weep if something happened to  _him_ .

  
  


“It’s quieter without him,” mused Ferdinand, picking something relatively safe to say.

  
  


“He hardly said much.”

  
  


“Yes, but, he was always  _around_ .” Ferdinand shrugged. “Working out, sharpening something. He had a presence. I can  _feel_ that he’s gone. You’re the same way.”

  
  


Hubert pushed himself out of his seat. “I’m going to check on Edelgard.”

  
  


Ferdinand cringed. He’d said too much. “Is she still asleep?”

  
  


Hubert hummed confirmation as he set his mug in the deep utility sink. Ferdinand munched his granola bar as he watched Hubert walk away, trying to ignore the clawing sensation that he couldn’t even watch Hubert leave a room without feeling like he missed him, or worse, like he would never return.

  
  


Eventually, the nasty pull in his chest grew too much. “Hey, Hubert?” Ferdinand bit his lip when the words flew out unchecked. He continued when Hubert hesitated: “do you have, erm, any scissors with your supplies?”

  
  


With a queer expression, Hubert turned around. “Yes…?”

  
  


“I have been thinking, since yesterday—er, this morning, I guess.” Ferdinand shook his head furiously, but it did nothing to clear his whirling head. “No, actually, since before that. It probably started with that time in the forest--”

  
  


“Thinking  _what_ .”

  
  


Ferdinand blushed. “What I mean to say is, ah, would you cut my hair?”

  
  


Hubert blinked and cocked his hips, clearly taken aback. “Well,” he said at length, “if you wait for Dorothea to get back, she would be able to find a way to do such a thing properly, that is, assuming she doesn’t talk you out of it entirely.”

  
  


“I want you to do it.”

  
  


“Why?”

  
  


Ferdinand looked at his lap. “Well, if I recall correctly, you were the one who brought it up in the first place. I think you may have offered to do it, too.”

  
  


“Right.” Hubert tapped his foot and looked to the ceiling thoughtfully. “That I did.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ferdinand had spent quite a long time reminding himself of just why it was a good idea to cut off his hair. However, when he felt Hubert toss a towel across his shoulders and take his braided ponytail in his fingers, the reality hit him like a truck. He’d worn his hair long for most of his life, and he was sure that, with Hubert’s inexperience—though he reminded Ferdinand that he cut his own hair, as if that was supposed to make him feel better—he was sure he was going to come out the other side of this looking like a completely different person. But, he knew, especially after the incident in the car, that shedding his locks would be wise for his future as a vampire hunter.

  
  


Talking himself up in his head could only do so much, however, as Ferdinand jumped out of the rickety folding chair as soon as he felt a pull at his ponytail. Biting his lip, he touched the nape of his neck, where a solid chunk was already taken out of the body of his hair. There was no going back from that.

  
  


Hubert appeared to be more irate than he was surprised by Ferdinand’s retreat. “Cold feet?”

  
  


“I, um.” Ferdinand let out a trembling breath and sat back down. “I wasn’t ready yet. I apologize. Would you just, ah, say when you’re going to do it?”

  
  


“What, you want me to count down from three?” Hubert scoffed. When he grabbed the ponytail again, his fingers were surprisingly warm where they brushed Ferdinand’s neck. “If you wanted such a thing, you shouldn’t have asked me. Remind me why _I_ am the one doing this?”

  
  


Ferdinand balled his hands in his lap. “Because you’re the one who suggested it,” he tried.

  
  


“That much I gather. I did not realize that made me qualified to  _do_ it.”

  
  


“I’m not expecting a professional result.” Ferdinand squeaked when he felt a pull from behind. “Not that I think it will be  _bad_ , or anything! It’s just that this is more of a practical thing than an aesthetic one, and I think you understand that. And it’s rather clear that you’re quite good with your hands, so, ah. I’m sorry, I hope that didn’t come across as inappropriate. It’s just impressive how you can be dexterous and strong at the same time, and I—augh, will you hurry up and start  _cutting_ ?”

  
  


“I have.” Hubert showed Ferdinand the half-braided lock.

  
  


Ferdinand clapped a hand over his mouth. “I though I asked you to tell me!”

  
  


“I assumed you would frighten again, so I distracted you,” said Hubert softly as he set aside the tied-off hair and started to snip at the ragged edges left behind. “As it turns out, if I give you a reason to speak and don’t bother interrupting you, you will just keep on going.”

  
  


Ferdinand’s face was alight. “ _Hubert_ !”

  
  


“No, no, go on,” Hubert chuckled. “I was quite captivated with your description of my hands.”

  
  


“You’re incorrigible.” Though Ferdinand tried to sound bitter, he couldn’t suppress the smile at his cheeks. He found himself relaxed, more relaxed than he’d been in a while. The sounds of the scissors calmed him almost as much as the occasional brushes of fingers against his neck. With how they lingered, he knew that they were no mistake, but he couldn’t bring himself to discourage it. How could he say no when Hubert was tracing the cuff of his ear so delicately?

  
  


There was a part of Ferdinand that searched for the right words to say to ground things and walk them back from this unearned intimacy. But the silence felt almost sacred, captured in the snipping scissors and the quiet buzz of the lamps above. It felt like he could truly pretend for a second that things were fine. Any further words might shatter the illusion.

  
  


Ferdinand was growing warm from the inside out, relaxing enough that he may well be able to fall asleep despite the fresh caffeine in his blood. He scant felt a thing when Hubert paused his work to place a kiss to the back of his neck.  It was fleeting, the warmth disappearing promptly when Hubert returned to what he was doing. But, things shifted from there. Ferdinand grew more complacent as he felt a few more wandering touches, even a couple kisses to his ear. It wasn’t long before it was clear that Hubert wasn’t doing any more cutting. Either he was done, or he’d gotten too distracted to continue. Ferdinand couldn’t begin to tell.

  
  


Ferdinand gasped when the lips on his ear turned into teeth. This had to stop. “Hubert…”

  
  


But, his objection sounded more like an invitation. Hubert’s teeth dug further in. Ferdinand was frantically trying to compose a way to correct him when Hubert flung aside the towel and set his mouth into the crook of Ferdinand’s neck. “I miss you,” murmured Hubert with an earnestness that made Ferdinand’s chest tighten.

  
  


“As do I,” Ferdinand replied, his words coming out before he could stop them. Internally, he screamed at himself for rewarding this empty romance. Things were supposed to be miserable. How else would Hubert learn? How else would  _he_ learn?

  
  


But he couldn’t find it in himself to reject Hubert. He’d never gotten such direct, vulnerable look at Hubert’s emotions. It was actually a bit of a surprise to discover that Hubert was actually suffering, rather than simply wanting to get into his pants.

  
  


However, it didn’t seem like that was completely out of the question when Hubert slid his hands down to Ferdinand’s thighs, all while sucking an egregious hickey into his shoulder. Ferdinand was starting to regret his exposing choice of clothes.

  
  


“I want to have you again,” Hubert breathed against his skin. “And you can damn me for assuming, but I think you want me, as well. Lover, boyfriend, name it, and I will become what you want. It’s driving me mad to be so close.”  Hubert’s fingers dug in, sending a shiver through Ferdinand. “Please.”

  
  


Ferdinand felt like his brain was melting out through his ears. It was an absolute feat to swallow back his sighs and stop Hubert’s hands. “I do want you… but.”

  
  


Hot breath spread across Ferdinand as Hubert sighed. “There’s a  _but_ .”

  
  


“But,” murmured Ferdinand, “it shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be shallow.”

  
  


“ Shallow,” Hubert repeated thoughtfully. “It doesn’t need to be. Give me a moment. Stay put, right there.” In a whirlwind, Hubert disappeared, leaving Ferdinand confused and utterly flustered.

  
  


Absentmindedly, Ferdinand touched the back of his neck. With no mirrors, he couldn’t tell how his newly shorn locks actually  _looked_ , but it felt nice to be free  of the excess weight.  With the fiddlings of Hubert and the fresh cut, he was figuratively and literally lightheaded as he twisted to watch Hubert disappear down the hall.  His heart ached once more to see him leave, even so briefly; he was already starting to regret turning Hubert away. 

  
  



	24. Act 3 Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand receives a gift.

When Hubert returned, he placed a zippered bag on Ferdinand’s lap, kneeling before him like a squire to his knight. Ferdinand regarded it curiously. “This is… that thing from the car, isn’t it? You almost died for this.”

  
  


There was far too much pride in Hubert’s smile for the mention of his risk-taking behaviors. “It is for you. Open it.”

  
  


The vinyl peeled back to reveal a stiff leather shape. Shucking the ba g further, Ferdinand found the handle of a sword, with silver thorns that wove out from a fearsome gargoyle maw at the cross guard. When Ferdinand pulled it from its sheath, the blade gleamed with  what had to be pure silver. It sat pleasantly light in his hand, and the intricate details were absolutely stunning.

  
  


“While we were in Edelgard’s basement,” explained Hubert, his gloomy face managing to glow, “I discovered an impressive collection of old hunting equipment. Items passed down from her forefathers. There were crosses, rosaries, even a flintlock that was part of a failed experiment with silver bullets.  There was so much history tucked back there, I could have stayed forever. 

I thought… that you would like this. The blade is silver, of course, and the forte is inlaid with oak resin. It cannot _kill_ a beast, however, if you can get it thrust all the way through, it will surely incapacitate. It isn’t quite the foil that you would prefer, but it’s similar to our training swords, and you’re familiar with those.”

  
  


Though Ferdinand was already reeling from the gift, he blushed even further  at the invocation of when Hubert trained him in swordplay. “I seem to recall being quite skilled with those,” he remarked.

  
  


Hubert quirked his lips to the side. “I’m not sure I remember the same, but it’s good that you’re  F so optimistic.”

  
  


“Your intent is to woo me right now, yes?” Ferdinand raised his eyebrows.

  
  


“What I mean to say is that you shouldn’t neglect your practice,” Hubert said. “Nor should you forget maintenance. If the blade is well cared-for, it can slice through scales like butter.”

  
  


There was a  _sparkle_ to Hubert’s eyes, a sight completely new to Ferdinand. He couldn’t stop thinking about the lengths Hubert had gone to for this gift.  It was the most  _special_ Ferdinand had probably ever felt.  And yet, something inside of him couldn’t accept an object, no matter how special, as reconciliation for being deceived.

  
  


“This is really, truly amazing, Hubert,” said Ferdinand, placing a hand to Hubert’s cheek. Pain crossed his insides when he saw the way Hubert leaned into the touch, eyes downturned. “I couldn’t ask for a more impressive gift, and I’m deeply grateful, but…”

  
  


“But,” growled Hubert under his breath.

  
  


Ferdinand took in a breath and passed the sword back to Hubert. “But I simply can’t accept this in lieu of a proper apology. I want to be with you, truly, but I am not to be bought.” He moved to tuck his hair behind his ear, only to tense when he remembered that it was too short for that now. “Stunning as this is, it won’t fix things.”

  
  


For a moment, Hubert silently sat at Ferdinand’s feet, a hand on either knee, fingers taut. “Well, then,” he said at last, “that isn’t… what this is for.”

  
  


“Pardon?”

  
  


“It isn’t a gift.” Hubert met Ferdinand’s eyes with renewed fierceness. “It’s a tool, one which I expect you to use against our adversaries. It’s of use to the both of us, not just you.”

  
  


“I… fail to see how you’re getting any use out of this.”

  
  


“Because with something so powerful at your disposal, I won’t need to watch your back so… so intently.” Hubert looked away as he pushed the sword back into Ferdinand’s lap. “As this is no gift, I will not have you try to offload it onto me again. You will use it. That is an order.”

  
  


Ferdinand was left stock still as Hubert got up and made his way stiffly towards the half-empty pot of coffee. Surely, it was cold by now, just like everything in this damned place was. Though he tried to catch Hubert’s eye, it seemed a fruitless effort, as he had no idea what he would even say if he did. It was agonizing the way that he just couldn’t seem to get on the same page with Hubert about anything since last night. He’d thought, for a moment, after the incident with the car, they would have gotten back some of their synchronicity, but it must have been a fluke.

  
  


Hubert made a face as he slugged down a mouthful of cold coffee. At length, he met Ferdinand’s eyes. “I thought I said not to neglect your practice,” Hubert snipped. “Go on, make some use of your time.”

  
  


Ferdinand huffed and stood, all but kicking his chair out from under him. “Hubert.” From where he’d started to scurry away like the recluse he was, Hubert paused. “Surely… surely it would be of more use if I were to train with a partner, as opposed to the dummies.”

  
  


“I think you have already asked of me one too many favors today,” said Hubert icily.

  
  


Ferdinand was on the verge of tears at this point. Hell, maybe he was already crying. He didn’t focus too deeply on it. Rather, he gave in to Hubert’s command and dragged out a straw  standee before absolutely losing himself  thrashing the thing. He swung until his arms cried out, and pushed himself long past that, hoping that eventually the pain in his muscles would be enough to draw his attention away from his grief.

  
  


Though he hurt from overexertion, Ferdinand had to admit that the blade felt  _right_ in his hands. It felt like it had been made just for him, and moved as though it were an extension of himself. As he dipped into his muscle memory from fencing in his youth, rusty but sound, he found himself tearing through every training target he could get his hands on. After a long time at it, the squabbling in his head died down, just a little bit.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The hideout was starting to feel more and more like a void where time went to disappear. Ferdinand could have practiced for a few minutes, hours, maybe even a whole day, before Dorothea finally returned. Ferdinand only snapped out of his furious, pained stupor when he realized that her presence would mean having some fresh clothes at last. He felt like he’d sweated through everything he’d worn in the past couple of days.

  
  


As Ferdinand set aside his sword and shook the sweat from his hair, he noticed Hubert, lingering at the mouth of the hall, sullenly clutching a coffee mug. It was impossible to tell if he’d just emerged or if he’d been watching for some time.

  
  


Dorothea arched her brows at Ferdinand as she flopped an armful of packed suitcases on the meeting table. “My god, I could have sworn that there was a _stranger_ in here! Boyshorts, a fresh cut… you look like a new man! How long was I gone?”

  
  


“Long enough to lose my impulse control,” Ferdinand said with a chuckle, grateful to have a lighter atmosphere in the hideout. “Tell me, and be honest, does it look good?”

  
  


“Turn around for me?” At her request, Ferdinand spun, all while awkwardly avoiding the eye of Hubert across the room. He felt somewhat rude for asking for her input in front of him, but she couldn’t even know that it was his handiwork.

  
  


“Not too bad for a rush job,” said Dorothea. “Little messy in the back, but you have a sort of Don Bluth look going on up front. Suits you. I’ll miss your waves, though.”

  
  


“It felt like it was their time,” said Ferdinand, fluffing himself.

  
  


“Well,” chirped Dorothea as she slid one of the suitcases towards him, “consider me supportive of the new Ferdie.”

  
  


Ferdinand smiled softly. “Appreciate it. Now, what treasures have you brought?”

  
  


Dorothea rolled back her head dramatically. “Good god, your closet is a labyrinth. Hope the stuff at the front was good enough, because I was  _not_ going any deeper.” She beamed as Ferdinand investigated the contents. “Oh, and I grabbed some skincare basics, and a razor. That is, unless your new look includes a beard?”

  
  


“ God, no,” chortled Ferdinand. “Unless…?”

  
  


There was snickering, but the mirth was cut short when Hubert cut in, tapping his fingers rather forcefully on the table. Ferdinand shuffled a few steps away while Dorothea slid a suitcase to him, then another when he tapped his fingers again. He ejected himself promptly and whirled towards his quarters, leaving a palpable awkwardness in the air.

  
  


“Say,” hummed Ferdinand, trying not to let the good times slip away so quickly, “I do have to wonder why you have access to my townhouse.” He glanced in the direction of Hubert’s back. “Who precisely is responsible for that?”

  
  


Hubert snorted at that, though his stride only paused for a spit second.

  
  


“Hold on, hold on,” Dorothea’s firm tone was just enough to halt Hubert. “There’s something weird I saw on my way back. I don’t know if that thing that attacked us was supposed to, like, turn to dust, or something, but I swung by the car wreck and I didn’t see any remains there at all.”

  
  


A crease formed between Hubert’s brows. “I… would have to get a look at it myself.”

  
  


“Hey, you can’t go out there now. It’s well past sunset.” The way that Dorothea stood her ground to him stirred some envy in Ferdinand.

  
  


Hubert scoffed. “I think I can handle myself.”

  
  


“I _think_ that we should start making decisions as a group. I don’t intend to let you decide what all of us do going forward.”

  
  


For a second, Hubert seemed to look in Ferdinand’s direction, perhaps for support, but Ferdinand had none to give. He did feel bad for Hubert, seeing as he seemed to be in conflict with _everyone_ , but he was due to learn how to get on better with his cohorts, anyway. He was too old to be acting the way he’d been.

  
  


When Hubert turned on his heel to retreat once more, Dorothea cut in: “where are you going?”

  
  


“I’m _going_ to go wake Edelgard,” Hubert snapped. “I presume that you would want her present.”

  
  


As he disappeared, Dorothea growled and plunked herself on the meeting table, arms crossed. Even for someone as careful about her appearance as her, the past few days had taken their toll, leaving her hair frizzy and her eyes dark. Perhaps she’d always had the slightest bit of dark circles, but they were certainly more prominent now.

  
  


“Keep on like that,” said Ferdinand with a smile, “and you might just have a better handle on him than Edelgard.”

  
  


“I don’t even think _Hubert_ has a handle on Hubert.”

  
  


Ferdinand snorted in a way that was likely far too telling. “He’s certainly… difficult.”

  
  


Dorothea shook her head, brows drawn. “You know, there’s someone here who already has a pretty tight leash on Hubie, if he’d only notice.”

  
  


Ferdinand blinked. “Pardon?”

  
  


“Oh, come on,” said Dorothea with a smirk.

  
  


Ferdinand rattled his head, noting how disorienting his head’s movements were with how much weight he’d shed in his hair. “I… fail to see how I could actually _get_ Hubert to do anything,” he huffed. “At least, anything other than _sex_.”

  
  


Dorothea crossed her legs. “You’d be surprised at how far a little bit of doe eyes can go, even on someone so gloomy. I would almost suggest you tidy up to catch his eye a little bit more, but, honestly, I think that post-workout _glow_ thing is doing it for him.”

  
  


“You can’t be serious,” Ferdinand balked.

  
  


“Like I said: you just need to notice when you’ve got a hold on him.”

  
  


Ferdinand opened his mouth to object, but he squeaked when the heavy door latch of the quarters down the hall sounded. Sharing a space with Hubert was surely enough to make him sprout gray hairs.

  
  


Dorothea leaned in and lowered her voice. “Listen, I’m just saying. Try batting your lashes a little next time he digs in his heels. It’ll make things easier on all of us.”

  
  


The both of them hastily straightened when Edelgard and Hubert approached. Dorothea hopped off the table and seated herself properly, taking up the spot that was usually Emile’s. Even discounting that particular switcheroo, the snapshot of the meeting table was like a funhouse mirror version of what the team had been before. Ferdinand was half-dressed, sweaty, and shorn; Edelgard looked like absolute death, from her sunken features to rapidly graying hair; and Hubert, well, Hubert looked about the same, but it didn’t take a pair of keen eyes to see that he was under a kind of stress that was entirely new to him.

  
  


There was simple conversation among the team as Hubert brewed some fresh coffee for dead-tired Edelgard, who responded to queries about her health with dismissal. Her eyes were mainly on the table, which Ferdinand chalked up to her exhaustion until he saw her exchange a few meaningful looks with Hubert. As she sipped at her vigorously sugared coffee, Ferdinand wondered if she was once again keeping things from him.

  
  


After downing at least half of her mug, Edelgard spoke with gravity: “So, our next step--” she stopped to clear her throat when her voice cracked. “Our next step will most likely require us to lay low for some time. We will find time tomorrow to gather supplies to have around the hideout while we wait for the coast to be clear. Hubert has informed me that Dorothea was so kind as to fetch some of our personal belongings for our stay. Thank you, Dorothea. I’m sure we can return in the future for the rest of our things--”

  
  


“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m quite understanding here,” interrupted Ferdinand, sticking his hand in the air like a student. “What exactly is this next step?”

  
  


Hubert rolled his eyes. “Surely you can understand the obvious--”

  
  


Edelgard put up a hand to stop him. “I suppose I thought that Hubert would have mentioned it, Ferdinand. Especially since it was his suggestion.” There was a visible wince from Hubert before she continued: “We are leaving.”

  
  



	25. Act 3 Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument breaks out among the group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY now this is new content. Enjoy!!

Ferdinand’s hands hit the meeting table with an echoing clang as he shot from his seat. “ _What_? Edelgard, this is preposterous! I have never in my life thought you someone to _run away_!”

  
  


Edelgard still wouldn’t meet Ferdinand’s eye. “You need to consider our circumstances, Ferdinand. One of our best fighters is dead, our support from Mercedes is entirely pulled, we barely managed to escape the  _one_ pureblood vampire we encountered with our lives. And even Lysithea is…” she trailed off, sighed, and put a hand on her head. “And, well, look at me,” she added with a bitter chuckle.

  
  


Though Ferdinand felt guilty for pressing someone who had lost so much, but, when he considered whether he would run away if  _Hubert_ had been the one to die, he knew that he had to press on. Because he knew Edelgard, which means that he knew that she was just like him.

  
  


“I know we’re in dire straits right now,” said Ferdinand, “but others have done more with less.  We may be out a fighter, but we still have Hubert, who is an excellent asset.”

  
  


“Flattery will not help things,” Hubert snipped.

  
  


Ferdinand rolled his eyes and directed a pleading look to Edelgard. “I know for a fact that we are all too strong to simply give up. I mean, how could we abandon the people who we are meant to protect when they most need it?”

  
  


“No one else is going to die,” Edelgard all but mumbled, arms crossed.

  
  


“Pardon me?” Ferdinand cocked his hips.

  
  


“They have what they want now, do they not?” Edelgard splayed her hands face-down on the table. “I cannot say why, but what they wanted was your company, and now they’ve gotten it. They won’t be killing needlessly after getting their dues. Isn’t that right, Hubert?”

  
  


With that, Ferdinand realized who he was really fighting. Edelgard would never be presenting these ideas on her own, but perhaps she was just weary enough to let a little shadow speak into her ear. “This is awfully low of you, Hubert,” said Ferdinand coldly.

  
  


Hubert crossed his legs and leaned back. “I am not above retreating when the situation calls for it. I’m not inundated with some naive concept of justice, nor do I hold persistence as an esteemed trait. Besides, there are plenty of regions in which we would be of more use as hunters. Regions that lack the presence of enormous purebloods.” Though he seeped smugness, he wasn’t able to hold Ferdinand’s gaze consistently.

  
  


“You aren’t above running away, no,” said Ferdinand, looking down his nose. “I can say that from experience.” At that, Hubert shifted. He was intimidating, sure, calculated and pragmatic, but not unbreakable. “But I would think you better than to use Edelgard as a puppet. And I certainly do not think you want to neglect the lives of bystanders.”

  
  


Hubert scoffed and uncrossed his legs. “Your attacks on my person will not change the point that further bloodshed is wildly unlikely.”

  
  


“You don’t believe that yourself!” Ferdinand slammed down on the table once again, hard enough to turn his palms pink. “Dorothea, didn’t you notice something odd on your trip out? The remains of the thing which attacked the car, vanished like they were never there?”

  
  


Dorothea froze when he pointed at her, as if she wasn’t expecting to be called on. “I did,” she blurted. “But I’m still not sure if--”

  
  


“Don’t doubt yourself, Dorothea,” Ferdinand said, wagging his finger. “If there is even a  _chance_ that there’s something like that roaming the streets of the city, is it not our job to take care of it?”

  
  


“It’s still alive?” asked Edelgard, her eyes widening.

  
  


Hubert cut in before anyone else could follow up: “It  _might_ be.”

  
  


Edelgard pursed her lips. “This is the first I’m hearing this news.”

  
  


Ferdinand shook his head and frowned. “Hubert…”

  
  


“I intended to tell her,” Hubert snipped with a snort. His tone was clearly an effort to hide his embarrassment, but, unfortunately for him, a blush could not go unnoticed on his pale skin.

  
  


“And when was that going to be?” Ferdinand posited, tapping his chin. Before Hubert could respond, Ferdinand followed up, perhaps too hastily: “When the creature shows up on our  _fucking_ doorstep and starts killing those dear to her? Those  _left_ , that is.” Dorothea cupped a hand over her mouth at that, and Ferdinand felt a little pride when he saw Hubert’s facade cracking further. “Pardon my language,” Ferdinand added weakly when he met Hubert’s eyes. He couldn’t quite stand by his reckless charge when Hubert was fuming at him like a bull who’d seen red.

  
  


Hubert’s fingers curled into something like claws on the table. “This… thing is a non-issue, and so is my failure to inform Edelgard about it.”

  
  


“It seems awfully dangerous to me,” Dorothea interjected before shrinking somewhat from Hubert’s glare.

  
  


“Honestly,” said Ferdinand, “where has your integrity gone? We both saw the circumstances of that… homunculus’s birth, and I know you consider _vampires_ to be a crime against nature. How could this be a non-issue for you?”

  
  


Hubert groaned and sent his eyes to the ceiling. “I seem to recall,” said Hubert through gritted teeth, “that that  _thing_ didn’t attack any of us after its birth, even while we were completely vulnerable.  It is mindless, yes, but it doesn’t act on killer instinct like vampires do. I believe that its attack this morning was it acting on orders.”

  
  


Ferdinand furrowed his brow. “That’s absurd.”

  
  


Hubert smirked, drummed his fingers, and met Ferdinand with a look that pinned him in place. “I have been researching in my spare time. Not filth-ridden literature, like you may be familiar with, but evidence from the very hands of the beasts in the forest.” The way that he scanned across the table, it was clear that he was gobbling up the anticipation. “The being we faced has no free will of its own. It is an empty vessel for its owners, which are those  _Great Ones_ that the lunatic beasts were speaking about.”

  
  


“They were referring to the purebloods, then?” Edelgard hummed. “That would make sense.”

  
  


“ _Those_ beasts are the ones who have control over the company, now,” said Hubert. “Flayn and… probably whoever she came from—purebloods rarely separate. She appears young, so I would presume at least a parent of some kind.”

  
  


“Oh!” Ferdinand blushed when he realized he’d called the others’ attention with his sound. “I uh, I hate to support Hubert, but I just recalled her referring to an older brother that she was living with. So, she did have some family in town.”

  
  


Hubert put out a hand to Ferdinand. “There it is. You are useful on occasion, Ferdinand.” There was a smirk from Hubert that would have, on a better day, make him imagine how he might redirect that mouth somehow. “There are at least two purebloods sitting in Aegir Trust’s velvet throne right now, and the only people that they want dead are us. Hence, why they sent their pet after us.”

  
  


Dorothea drummed her fingers, her nails clicking the table before her fingertips could reach it. “So, that’s why you think more bloodshed--”

  
  


“Is incredibly unlikely,” finished Hubert with a proud shrug. “Considering that they already have what they want.”

  
  


“ You seem awfully confident in your reading of a couple of vampires that you do not know,” said Ferdinand, still firmly on his feet and looking down at Hubert.

  
  


Hubert scoffed and curled his lips in a flash of white teeth, which Ferdinand still felt would look appropriate with a set of fangs. “I have spent the better part of my entire life pursuing vampires, Ferdinand. Do you deign to tell me that I don’t understand them?”

  
  


“ Well, yes, actually.” Ferdinand moved to flip his hair before realizing that he now lacked that maneuver.

  
  


Hubert crossed his arms and curled his hands into white-knuckled fists. “Surely your days of questioning my authority--”

  
  


“Your authority on fighting vampires? Wouldn’t doubt it in a million years,” said Ferdinand, pacing along the circumference of the table. “But, the way you talk about them makes me unfaithful in your ability to get into their heads. You call them inhuman--”

  
  


“Rightfully so--”

  
  


“But! I’ve been  _close_ to one. And, whether my closeness to Flayn was something that I should have been warned against is a discussion for another day, but it certainly seemed, from my angle, that she was a whole person with thoughts and desires. I’m not being arrogant when I say that she was  _fond_ of me, and not as a meal, before you suggest such a thing.” Though Ferdinand expected some outraged retort from Hubert, it seemed that this particular topic had him biting his lip and looking away. In fact, Edelgard was doing something rather similar. She must have been in on the lies, herself.

  
  


“Was I sad, shocked to discover that Flayn was a vampire? Yes,” continued Ferdinand, still rounding the table, watching Hubert bristle as he passed behind. “But I am willing to say that I would fight her, kill her, even, for the safety of me and my friends. But, she never once threatened  _me_ . And I don’t think that a coincidence. She was not devoid of feelings. In some way, she is a person.”

  
  


“I can’t believe this,” grumbled Hubert. “He’s saying we must feel sorry for them.”

  
  


“I’m not saying that,” said Ferdinand. “They are killers, that I will admit.”

  
  


Edelgard met Ferdinand’s eyes with a look of impatience that reminded him of their academy days. “So, what exactly  _are_ you saying?”

  
  


“What I’m saying is that I  _know_ Flayn, not as an adversary, but as a person. And my closeness to her, my numerous study dates with her, do not simply evaporate upon seeing her turn into a monster. Edelgard, you said you didn’t know why the vampires would seek the ownership of our banks, but I do.” Ferdinand puffed himself with pride. “You see, Flayn was a hard working assistant, and an excellent mathematician. She claimed to enjoy sitting down to fill out spreadsheets and taking in numbers.”

  
  


“Oh, my god,” muttered Hubert, head in his hands. “You aren’t bringing  _this_ up again.”

  
  


“It makes  _so_ much sense now!  I even  _tested_ it. Vampires adore numbers. They love counting, and solving problems. It’s no wonder they desire a prosperous bank that’s going through a massive merger; what better way to see numbers tick up? It will feed their arithnomania like crazy.” Though Ferdinand felt somewhat like a madman as he laid out his points, he was sure of himself when he saw how intently Edelgard was listening.

  
  


At last, Hubert stood up and met Ferdinand’s gaze on even footing. “This is absurdity and conjecture,” he snapped. “Just because you managed to slow down a beast  _one_ time by spouting enough nonsense to confuse it does  _not_ mean that all vampires are enamored with mathematics.”

  
  


“It isn’t as though it’s based on nothing,” said Ferdinand, meeting Hubert with equal intensity. “It’s from my research. There are tales of vampires being stopped in their tracks when asked to count all the lentils in a sack. These were from the same books, mind you, that taught me about many of the other vulnerabilities, all of which you confirmed as valid.”

  
  


“All of that research was in service to a false conclusion, anyway,” Hubert countered. “It’s worth nothing. That is, unless you still think I am a vampire?”

  
  


Ferdinand willed himself not to back down. The heat in Hubert’s stare was intense, reminding Ferdinand what he’d found so thrilling about the man to begin with. “You certainly still fit the bill,” Ferdinand remarked, bitterness creeping into his voice. “I have to wonder whether I can consider you human, sometimes.”

  
  


Though he winced for a second, Hubert quickly caught himself and twisted the expression into a grin that brought Ferdinand’s heart to a stop. “Tell me,” he said with a forced breeziness, “did this  _arithnomania_ turn up in one of those smut books that you regarded as research material? The ones that had you taking such notes about  _kissing_ and  _sensuality_ and had you calling me in the middle of the night, drunk out of your mind, telling me that it was  _okay_ that I was a vampire, because you wouldn’t mind a little bit of biting?”

  
  


_That_ had certainly been something Ferdinand had hoped to forget. How could Hubert even recall such details at the drop of a hat? “Well, I…” Ferdinand babbled, his face hot. “None of those books were  _smut_ \--”

  
  


“I must say, I’m surprised you didn’t leap into Flayn’s arms the moment she transformed, your ideas about vampires being as perverse as they are. How can we trust you to actually know what you’re talking about?” Hubert arched his eyebrows. “Why, yes, in fact, you  _were_ close with that beast. Perhaps  _too_ close.”

  
  


Ferdinand shrunk further, wishing that Edelgard was in good enough form to intercept this harassment. “I  _told_ you that I didn’t sleep with her…”

  
  


There was a gentle touch at Ferdinand’s elbow where Dorothea pulled his attention. “Don’t let him get to you,” she whispered, her expression strong.


	26. Act 3 Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan forms among the group.

Ferdinand shook himself and squared his shoulders. If Dorothea was right, perhaps he could manage to get under Hubert’s skin if he stooped to his level. “You know, while we’re on the subject of my prior relationship with Flayn, I do have to ask something that’s been bothering me for a while: did you lead me to believe that she was dead just so that you could sleep with me?”

  
  


The way Hubert’s jaw dropped gave Ferdinand the sickest sort of pride. “ _What_ ? No! Absolutely not!”

  
  


“Are you sure? Because it appears you would try anything to get into my pants.” The taste of vengeance had gone straight to Ferdinand’s head. “By the way, I’m not so sure you’re in the position to give away a priceless artifact from Edelgard’s belongings, especially not for the sake of patching up a relationship that  _you_ ruined.” Even as he said it, Ferdinand knew that the pettiness he was bringing to the table was no small actor in the problems at hand.

  
  


“ That is… completely irrelevant,” muttered Hubert.

  
  


“I think it isn’t! My point is thus: we cannot let our decisions be made by someone who is so selfish, and so willing to manipulate.”

  
  


“That is big of you to say,” hissed Hubert, “considering what you’re doing right now.”

  
  


A hot flash of shame crossed Ferdinand’s neck. He knew that he was wrong to press on, but he was so satisfied to know that he was managing to make Hubert  _hurt_ , after everything he’d put Ferdinand through. “It was you in the first place who turned this discussion into a fight over our relationship--”

  
  


“It’s hardly a relationship,” Hubert spat. “What it  _is_ is a distraction from everything that actually matters. If you would stop--”

  
  


“Stop  _what_ ? If you’re truly being  _distracted_ , then is it not your fault for being so easily drawn astray? I have never tried to keep you from important work, nor have I tried to break your focus. And I most certainly wasn’t looking to be descended upon in the hospital while you let Dorothea and Edelgard sit around in the damned car—oh,  _shit_ !” Ferdinand clapped a hand over his mouth. “The hospital! My goodness, pardon my language. I was going to mention before you… well, before you distracted me. I completely forgot--”

  
  


“I object to the implication that you were not responsible in some part for initiating that particular encounter--”

  
  


“That’s irrelevant!”

  
  


Hubert clicked his tongue and hunched in his chair. “So is everything else you’ve said this whole meeting--”

  
  


“Not this!” Ferdinand shook his head to clear his mind of his vindictive thoughts. “While I was at the hospital, Mercedes told me that the vampires had plans to buy it out, wholesale.”

  
  


There was a beat of silence across the table. Ferdinand took in a long breath, noting that he was trembling to his core. Hubert was still staring him down, but Ferdinand didn’t have it in him to look his way. He made a note to himself to apologize,  then stuffed it down, telling himself that he would apologize as soon as Hubert did. 

  
  


Dorothea was the first to speak up: “That is… pretty huge, isn’t it?”

  
  


“It’s hard to imagine,” mused Edelgard. “A hospital run by vampires…”

  
  


Hubert hadn’t quite finished being bitter. “That seems to me like information that should have come up earlier, no?”

  
  


“I’ll reiterate,” said Ferdinand firmly. “It slipped my mind last night, due in some part to my exhaustion, and, well, in some part to Hubert. I apologize for my carelessness.” He shut his eyes, took a breath, and looked at Hubert, then Edelgard, with eyes of regret. “Listen, if the arithnomania theory doesn’t please you, then  _this_ should. I don’t even need to get into their heads to know how such a thing would be used. A massive, busy hospital, in a place like this, with frail bodies and gallons of blood moving in and out daily—frankly, it’s terrifying to consider. If they didn’t overturn the bank in an attempt to become wealthy, then it could very well have been to afford something like this.”

  
  


Edelgard crossed her arms and tucked her chin thoughtfully before casting a brief look to Hubert, who was still visibly pouting. “I have to say, that is… an incredibly compelling reason to stick around, Ferdinand. I think even Hubert would agree to that.”

  
  


Hubert opened his mouth wordlessly, and, in the room of held breaths, the tiny sound of his lips parting seemed to echo like a dropped pin. He dragged his eyes across Ferdinand for a long moment before shutting his eyes and sighing. “I understand. If Edelgard wants this, then I will concede.”

  
  


Edelgard almost smiled. “Okay, Ferdinand. We will take back your family business. What’s the plan?”

  
  


Ferdinand resisted the urge to jump for joy and rub his victory in Hubert’s grumpy face. “That is… a very good question, Edelgard. I’m willing to hear input from anyone as to how we go about this.”

  
  


“Why don’t we just burn the place to the ground?” posited Hubert, trying to make it sound reasonable. “With them inside of it, of course. All of the beasts go up in smoke, and the problem is solved.”

  
  


“Hubert,” Edelgard chided.

  
  


Hubert shrugged and raised his eyebrows. “I cannot imagine being presented another opportunity in which there are multiple purebloods  sitting around, just waiting to be killed. It would do us well to be as direct and efficient about this as possible.”

  
  


“Hubert,” said Ferdinand, “I would very much like to see the company that my family has built upon their backs for generations returned in one piece. Goodness, what if they’ve got my father locked up in there somewhere? I’m not killing him.”

  
  


“Collateral damage,” puffed Hubert. He looked askance at Ferdinand, clearly intent to rile him up. “Besides, I was of the mind that you weren’t especially fond of him. Am I wrong?”

  
  


“Say, Ferdinand,” chimed Dorothea from where she’d been quietly pondering something for some time. “Buying a hospital is a pretty big move. Can Aegir Trust even afford that?”

  
  


“Well, of  _course…_ ” Ferdinand faltered. He bit back his prideful instincts; he’d already said too many things at this table that he didn’t really believe. “If I had to say truthfully, from what I know of our finances… probably not. I will admit, this is a point where my  _numbers_ theory hitches, as I can’t imagine they would be excited to go into the red with one purchase.”

  
  


Dorothea tented her fingers together. “Maybe… maybe you guys can’t afford it, but  _we_ can.”

  
  


Ferdinand crossed his arms and blushed. “Dorothea, come on, now. This isn’t the time for petty rivalry--”

  
  


“No, I mean  _we_ as in both your company and Edelgard’s. We are merging, after all. We may not have that much scratch on hand, but if they were to consolidate our assets, they might just come out with enough money.”

  
  


Edelgard straightened up. “That is true, but…”

  
  


“But they can’t do something like that until the merger is concluded. Not without your permission, of course.”

  
  


“Oh, my god.” Ferdinand snapped his fingers. “Even if they’ve managed to thrall Ludwig into handing over the keys, they still do not have Edelgard’s consent!”

  
  


Dorothea was glowing as she spoke. “And if they weren’t accounting for Edelgard’s survival, or our returning…”

  
  


“We have something on them!” Ferdinand grabbed Dorothea’s hands graciously. “Dorothea,  _thank_ you for being so good at your job. You may just be a better assistant than Flayn!”

  
  


She snorted and gave Ferdinand’s wrist a swat. “Now, don’t you go making any moves on  _me_ .”

  
  


There was a chitter among the group as a plan started to ravel itself into shape. It was nebulous in its shape, and often, Hubert had to rope in the rather lofty propositions that Ferdinand tried to put forth, but there was a synchronicity to the team that was comforting to see again. Even with Edelgard completely flattened by the effects of her bite, she seemed enthusiastic to be back in things, and Ferdinand couldn’t be more proud. 

  
  


There was a hitch in the details that bounced back and forth between Hubert and Dorothea for quite some time before Ferdinand started to grow rather fed up. Eventually, he cut them off and clicked open his cell phone defiantly. “Alright, if we don’t know how we’re going to get in, why don’t I solve that right now? Hm?”

  
  


Hubert frowned. “Don’t be so hasty--”

  
  


“We will talk in circles forever if I don’t settle this. It has to happen at some point, no?” Ferdinand punched in a number that he knew would take him straight where he wanted. “Just allow me to try.”

  
  


Though Hubert clearly intended to complain further, he snapped his mouth shut when Ferdinand set the phone to speaker, causing the ringing to echo for all to hear. The sound buzzed by a couple of times before an unfamiliar voice came from the speaker. “You’ve reached the offices of Aegir Trust. Whoever you’ve called isn’t available at this second, so if you could…”

  
  


Ferdinand bit back a sigh as the lackey babbled their script. He’d most certainly called a direct line, but he’d been relegated to an assistant. He should have expected as such. “I’m calling to register a complaint about the new management,” said Ferdinand, polite but firm. “Is there any way you can patch me through to the person in charge?” As he spoke, he could see Hubert making a face like he was going to pop a blood vessel.

  
  


There was a pause on the other side of the phone. “I’m not sure if you think--”

  
  


“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Ferdinand as he flashed a little smile to Hubert, which only made him more upset. “I seem to have neglected to introduce myself. This is the heir speaking. You know, Ferdinand von Aegir?”

  
  


A snort. “You’re bluffing.”

  
  


Dorothea and Edelgard made faces at that, to which Ferdinand followed up with a shrug. “If that’s a risk you’re willing to take,” hummed Ferdinand, “that is fine with me, but I would hate for your big,  _great_ bosses to find out about my issues with their methods when the tabloids start barking about an heir being chased from his own business.”

  
  


There was a crackling hiss from the speaker—a sigh. In a show of decidedly awful manners, there was no send-off from the lackey before the line clicked, sending Ferdinand through to where he’d aimed to call in the first place. 

  
  


“I hear I’m speaking with a mister  _von Aegir?_ ”

  
  


Ferdinand startled at the new voice. He realized that he’d been expecting to hear Flayn, but this was a decidedly masculine voice, and there was a bite behind it that told Ferdinand that he was already on the guy’s nerves.

  
  


There was a touch on Ferdinand’s back that startled him nearly as much as the newcomer. Snapped out of his stunned surprise, Ferdinand noted that Dorothea and Edelgard were giving him optimistic smiles, while Hubert was at his side, apparently ready to keep him on track. Ferdinand shook himself and mouthed a  _thanks_ before going forward: “why, yes, this is he. May I ask who is speaking?” Hubert needled him in the side—a reminder that he was putting politeness over proper information. “Is this, perhaps, miss Flayn’s brother?” Ferdinand added with a wince.

  
  


“I am a relative of hers, yes,” said the voice with a sigh. “If you must have a name, you may call me Seteth.”

  
  


“Seteth… ?” Ferdinand searched for some kind of last name. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall Flayn’s. Had she ever even told him what it was?

  
  


“Yes, that is right.”

  
  


Alright, he wasn’t getting a last name. Embarrassment crawled across Ferdinand’s skin, making him almost wish that thrall could reach him across the phone and put him a little bit at ease. “Well, mister Seteth, I must say, I’m taking quite a bit of issue with how you have been running Aegir Trust.”

  
  


“On the contrary, I don’t happen to be responsible for the  _running_ of it at the moment.”

  
  


“Ah, so you have a boss?” Ferdinand rolled his eyes. He couldn’t have just gotten what he’d asked for, could he? “Would it be possible for you to get him on the phone, then?”  He sent a look towards a clearly worried Edelgard. As she chewed her lip, Dorothea extended a hand to her shoulder.

  
  


“Unfortunately,” said Seteth tersely, “she is busy at the moment.”

  
  


“When may I speak with her, then?” Ferdinand made a mental note to reassess his personal biases. He  _was_ sitting in a room with a woman CEO.

  
  


The urgent spitting of words that followed was difficult to keep up with. “You may come at midnight, alone, to discuss your terms. We would like to see this through as agreeably as possible.”

  
  


“That sounds acceptable,” Ferdinand started, only to falter when Dorothea threw her hands up at him. He was being too amiable again. “Erm, actually, I believe our meeting would go a lot more smoothly if I am allowed an assistant.”

  
  


“If you wish for Flayn to be present, I can arrange--”

  
  


“No, no, ah.” Ferdinand winced at the cut to Seteth’s voice. It hadn’t occurred to him that Flayn’s family would be soured by their falling out. “I would never go so far as to claim that Flayn wasn’t an excellent assistant, but she has been absent for some time,” said Ferdinand, picking his words cautiously. “I’ve since adopted one of miss Hresvelg’s assistants to help me through the merger.  There are no hard feelings, of course; it’s just been a busy transition.”

  
  


Nothing he said seemed to placate Seteth’s bitterness. “You must not think that we will allow you to bring that alabaster killing machine into our offices.” Of course, at that, Hubert cracked a visible smirk.

  
  


Ferdinand scowled at Hubert and waved him off. He was frightened enough to try deceiving anyone in the first place; he certainly couldn’t stick to the script while Hubert was being endearingly bothersome in his line of sight. “Hubert is actually… not with the company anymore. With his and Edelgard’s… circumstances, plans have changed. I will be bringing miss Arn a ult with me.”

  
  


The other line was quiet for what felt like a little too long. Ferdinand was petrified, sure that he’d failed to be convincingly mournful in his tone. He could have tried to get more into character, perhaps, but it was difficult to pretend that Hubert was truly gone. The thought tore him up just a little bit too much.

  
  


At length, Seteth clicked his tongue. “Very well. We will see you and miss Arn a ult at midnight. Pray that things go smoothly.”


	27. Act 3 Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet face-to-face with some fearsome adversaries.

After being overrun by vampires, the offices now looked like a warped version of Ferdinand’s old life . Where he’d once found his job dull and lifeless, seeing it now, run by literal undead, made the old office look far, far more lively. Somehow, though all of the lights were on, the whole place felt darker than it had ever been.

  
  


As they were escorted through the halls, Dorothea would occasionally touch Ferdinand’s shoulder and tensely point out the particularly foreboding clusters of vampires. They all looked so _big_. Perhaps the purebloods surrounded themselves with the best of the best. But, Ferdinand tried to keep his fear in check; he had to believe that Hubert and Edelgard would be able to handle these adversaries. Still, Ferdinand couldn’t help but check over his shoulder every few steps, worried that he’d see them already captured or killed. Maybe they were all walking into a trap, anyway, and they didn’t stand a chance. Maybe Hubert had already made the call to cut his losses and burn the place down with them inside of it. Collateral damage was all he would be.

  
  


Ferdinand trained his eyes forward after his frantic glancing got a few too many looks from his escorts. He adjusted the hawthorn at his chest, a tiny rebellion fastened to his cranberry lapel, and folded his hands in front of him. The meeting rooms all had their blinds drawn, making the space feel especially cramped as he and Dorothea were led into their destination room.

  
  


“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” chimed the cool, smooth voice from the end of the table. As Ferdinand entered, the woman—the boss, presumably-- stood straight. She was a figure of unreal tallness and beauty, commanding attention like no one else. Ferdinand had though Flayn’s emerald locks to be dyed, but he saw now that the other purebloods bore the same color. The room felt full, despite there only being the three of them: the boss; a broad, stern man that had to be the Seteth from the phone; and Flayn herself, who looked exceptionally small in part due to the size of her relatives and in part due to the spot on her right arm that ended suddenly in a knotted sleeve.

  
  


Ferdinand crossed the room to meet the imposing woman, who met him halfway with a handshake. She was cold to the touch. “It’s a pleasure,” Ferdinand said. “I am Ferdinand von Aegir, and this is my wonderful assistant, Dorothea Arnault.” When he gestured, she dipped a small curts y.

  
  


The woman retracted her hand, where the navy and gold cuffs of her dress popped against white sleeves and somehow whiter skin. “I happen to know of you already,” she said, smiling with only her lips.

  
  


“Well, consider it an introduction for politeness’s sake, then,” said Ferdinand, pressing his palm to his thigh to chase away the cold. The close presence of the vampires was enough to make Ferdinand light-headed, the same woozy feeling that he’d perceived as infatuation when it came from Flayn. “Besides, I unfortunately do not know you, so if you’d do me the honor?”

  
  


“I’m sure you’ve heard of me in passing,” she cooed. “Many have called me a Great One, and that title applies as well to Seteth and Flayn, here. I have gone by many names beyond, but you may call me Rhea.”

  
  


Ferdinand nodded along, relaxed by the familiar rustic scent that wafted off of her. He recalled the same smell on Flayn some time ago. With a start, Ferdinand realized that he was acquainted with that smell far more than he’d been back then—blood. The queasy feeling that set in his gut at the thought made the thrall slacken for just a moment.

  
  


The slipping of the thrall also broke away at Ferdinand’s filter for a second, making words slip from his mouth: “have any of you lovely folks considered the use of, er, full names at any point? It might help you blend into human society just a touch.”

  
  


Rhea hummed and retreated to her end of the massive meeting table while Ferdinand mirrored her. “You are a funny one,” she observed. “I can see what Flayn is so fond of.”

  
  


Ferdinand swallowed and fought the way that the compliment buoyed him a little too much. He needed to be able to notice the effects of the thrall so that he could fight it. How he wished he’d had more practice…

  
  


“I am glad to hear that she speaks well of me,” said Ferdinand as he seated himself. Flayn pointedly looked down when he tried to catch her eye. “ You see, I am still  _so_ incredibly surprised to see Flayn again, and even moreso to see that she is able to see me with anything but jealousy. I, ah, had been of the assumption for some time that she had died. I’m sure you can see how that would affect my behavior.” He found himself oversharing and losing sight of his points. How quickly his charisma had gone down the drain.

  
  


“I do not,” said Rhea. Her voice was flat, genuinely confused, as opposed to angry. “Your behavior… it is not affected too greatly by the absence of your new lover.”

  
  


Her bluntness made Ferdinand startle so hard that he jammed his knee into the table.  The motion reminded him of the syringe of dead blood in his pocket, a precaution that Hubert insisted he take. “Well, I should hope that it at least doesn’t make me unprofessional,” he coughed.

  
  


Seteth tented his fingers and eyed Ferdinand with a firm gaze. “I must ask,” Seteth said, “what did happen with that Hubert character? I can’t exactly bring myself to believe that he simply left.” For a moment, Ferdinand wondered just where they had gotten their information. How much of their perception of the group was based on Flayn’s accounts?

  
  


Ferdinand hung his head and fingered his hawthorn pin, both to ground himself and to look properly mournful. He felt Dorothea’s hand on his shoulder and gave a great sigh as he leaned into it. He tried to steel himself, but he found it a little too frightening to meet the eyes of the vampires so soon.

  
  


“Hubert has died,” Dorothea said, picking up where Ferdinand couldn’t go. Her voice seemed to command the room almost as effectively as Edelgard’s so often did. “We were attacked on the streets of the city  this morning. Something—maybe a vampire, maybe not—came onto us out of nowhere.”

  
  


“That sounds dreadful,” said Rhea. The artificial lights did no favors to the pallid faces of the vampires, simply making the shadows stand out more deeply.

  
  


Ferdinand took in a long breath and gave Dorothea’s hand a touch. “He sacrificed himself to defeat our attacker and allow our escape. I…” he trailed off as he searched for the most believable thing to say, before settling on a simple statement of the truth: “I owe my life to Hubert.”

  
  


For better or for worse, it appeared that Flayn was the only one at the table that was reacting to his performance. Where Rhea and Seteth appeared rather stony, Flayn was covering her mouth and turning her brows. There was a pang in Ferdinand’s chest; he was terrified of the purebloods, Flayn included, but he couldn’t see Flayn as less than human after everything he’d been through with her. And, it seemed that she was having similar troubles with him.

  
  


“I hate to deaden the conversation,” said Ferdinand at length. No need to linger and give them time to doubt. “Let’s get into what we came here for. Before I field my complaints, I think it’s fair to hear what you are hoping to achieve with this meeting. Surely you haven’t called me here just to hear my feedback.”

  
  


“You are astute,” said Rhea, flashing a blinding smile that warmed Ferdinand’s chest. “For someone so clever, surely it isn’t difficult to understand why your presence would be helpful to us.”

  
  


“Indeed,” mumbled Ferdinand, nodding along.

  
  


Seteth caught Ferdinand’s gaze next. His eyes were almost as deep as Hubert’s, almost as handsome. “As much as it pains me to say,” crooned Seteth, “our claiming of this company was a rush job, and our circumstances will not stand up well to scrutiny. It would be easy for one to come to the conclusion that the CEO was threatened or coerced in some way.”

  
  


“Of course,” hummed Ferdinand. Something in the back of his mind demanded that he ask his father’s whereabouts, but when he blinked, he found that thought buried in images of deep, green eyes and a vague wondering of whether Hubert would approve. With a warm rush, he thought that Hubert would find this perfectly reasonable; he already knew how Ferdinand felt about vampires.

  
  


When Seteth tapped his fingers together, Ferdinand noted the strong tendons in his hands. “However, if we happen to have the seal of approval from the heir…”

  
  


“And I think we just might,” interjected Flayn, her voice chiming like a bell and echoing in Ferdinand’s head after such time unheard.

  
  


“Well, it does appear that way,” concurred Seteth. “If we have your word, as well, then the chances of being put upon for fraud or something similarly undue would be far lower.”

  
  


“Mmhmm,” sighed Ferdinand.

  
  


Though Rhea did little more than cock her head, her movement drew Ferdinand’s eyes intently to her. “Now, that is nothing to say how this arrangement benefits  _you_ ,” she said. “Why, Ferdinand, you could continue to be the face of your company, of your family, if that was what you wished. You could also have some say in what we do; we would never wish to take this away from you completely.”

  
  


“The face of the company,” Ferdinand repeated with a chortle, his eyes drooping like he couldn’t wait to take a nap. “That is funny, considering how much more handsome of a face  _any_ of you lovely folks would make.”

  
  


“ Man,” Dorothea chimed in, chin in her hand and curls from her fanciful updo twirled in a finger, “ I always thought  _Edie_ was a good speaker, but you, miss Rhea, you are a treat.”

  
  


Rhea put on a bashful expression, casting down a set of green lashes that caught the light from across the room. “You humans are experts in flattery,” she mused, her fine fingers touching her bottom lip.

  
  


Ferdinand clasped his hands together. “I mean every word, genuinely.” Wait, did he? “You needn’t worry yourself one bit over my position in all of this, ma’am. I respect your leadership.”

  
  


“How delightful. We can supervise the workings of the company while you may, oh, let’s say you spend your time golfing. You may go out and spend all day swinging at those, er, balls, while the benefits come rolling in.” Rhea’s eyes sparkled as though she were under a spotlight. “You needn’t lift a finger.”

  
  


As if under command by his subconscious, Ferdinand’s hand flew to his lapel, where he nearly pierced himself with the point of his hawthorn. “This does all sound rather tempting,” Ferdinand hummed as he fiddled thoughtfully with the wreath. He traced the twigs, and recalled that Hubert’s too-blunt, too-forward fingers were the ones responsible for weaving them. Perhaps, if Hubert could find it in him to be gentle enough for such handiwork, he would someday be so gentle with him.

  
  


Something clicked into place in Ferdinand’s mind. Even under the sway of these vampires, he was thinking of Hubert, anticipating when he would next see him. He wasn’t going to let Hubert down now, and he certainly wasn’t going to let him slip through his fingers when next he got a hold of him. Ferdinand pressed a thorn into his thumb, not enough to break the skin and set off his associates, but enough to put him back in a world where he knew what was most dear to him.

  
  


“I think I may need to discuss this with my assistant, if that is acceptable,” said Ferdinand, trying to make it appear as though he was still thralled. He let his eyes flutter and his face flush the slightest bit. “I don’t wish to imply that there are any problems with your offer. Consider it a formality.”


	28. Act 3 Chapter 9

Rhea’s brow furrowed slightly, but she waved a dismissive hand to allow Ferdinand his space. As Ferdinand tugged Dorothea out of her seat and took her aside, he could feel eyes upon his back. He hoped that they couldn’t see him squirm.

  
  


“Dorothea,” whispered Ferdinand. “You need to wake up. Come on.”

  
  


Dorothea shut her eyes for a long time before opening them back up to dilated pupils. “Wake up…?”

  
  


Ferdinand touched her arm gently, but when she didn’t seem to notice, he pinched her. “I know they seem very attractive and very convincing, but you need to snap out of it. Slowly, if you can. Make it look like we’re discussing terms.”

  
  


“Do you…” Dorothea trailed off and shook herself. “Do you think they can hear us from here?”

  
  


“I would hope not. I don’t recall Hubert ever saying anything about special senses outside of night vision and acute smell.”

  
  


Dorothea nodded, smoothing a hand down the front of her shirt. She appeared dressed down compared to Ferdinand, in a simple pocket square and pencil skirt, but she made such a simple outfit stand out with carefully considered accessories and well-used dark cardigan. It was enough to make Ferdinand jealous. “Say,” Dorothea hummed upon straightening herself out, “did you really think that they were hot? I’m not so sure that’s a thrall thing. You might just be a bit of a slut.”

  
  


“Hush,” Ferdinand puffed, suppressing a laugh. “This is serious!”

  
  


“Okay, okay, serious.” Dorothea smiled and tucked a lock behind her ear. “I think we’re about ready to negotiate, yeah?”

  
  


“Absolutely.” Ferdinand slid back into his seat as gracefully as any man could, hoping that the time he’d spent wrangled in thrall was enough to get Hubert and Edelgard well on their way. When Ferdinand regarded the vampires before him, he was amazed at how different they looked without the haze. He noticed signs that really were as clear as Hubert described them to be—little things, like the creases of thick makeup on their sallow faces, the neutral nail polish that they wore to hide the purplish rot below, the carefully teased hairstyles that hid a set of pointed ears unique to purebloods. It was clear that these beings had spent a long, long time learning how to hide among humans, but the illusions were shattered as soon as one knew what to look for.

  
  


Though Ferdinand intended to appear thralled, he wasn’t sure how effectively he could hide his discomfort. “After colluding with my assistant, I do find your terms to be good,” said Ferdinand tightly. “However, we do still have grievances we would like to bring up before we can agree to anything.”

  
  


“Grievances…? Rhea’s eyes flashed down in consternation.

  
  


“There are only a few,” said Dorothea unflinchingly, able to pick up the slack of Ferdinand’s nerves. “ Let’s start with the biggest one: acquisition of the city hospital, known colloquially as Bragi Hospital.”

  
  


Each vampire recoiled at that. “You’ve heard about that?” asked Flayn, hand on her chest.

  
  


The intent look that Flayn gave Ferdinand made it hard to tell the difference between thrall and pure nerves. “I, uh, happen to have a friend who works there,” Ferdinand said. “She was especially unsure of the change. I’m bringing this up in some part for her sake.”

  
  


There was a curl in Rhea’s lip that was barely there, but Ferdinand caught it. “So, tell me,” she said, her voice betraying nothing, “what exactly is the problem regarding the hospital?”

  
  


Ferdinand stood up, buttoned his blazer, and paced. “Well, if we look past the moral questions at hand for now, and approach this situation purely from a business standpoint, we will find rather quickly that the purchase makes no sense.”

  
  


Rhea cocked her head. Her emerald curls were voluminous, but looser than Flayn’s, and they fell gentle when her head moved. “I think you will find that it makes perfect sense. This is a busy area, with many accidents. Hospitals can pull in a surprising amount of money if they have a lot of traffic.”

  
  


Ferdinand’s gut tightened in disgust. “Bragi happens to be quite the large hospital, yes. An expansive campus, too. This seems to be a pricey endeavor.”

  
  


“Oh, Ferdinand, you should have more faith in us,” chirped Flayn. “And more faith in your company! We are--” she petered off awkwardly when Seteth gave her a look.

  
  


“It isn’t that I don’t,” said Ferdinand. “But, I just don’t know if you—if we could afford such a big purchase this year, especially with the recession as of late.”

  
  


“Recession?” Rhea furrowed her brow. It seemed that she didn’t pay much attention to the affairs of the human world. “ Why, surely it shouldn’t be too impressive of a hindrance?”

  
  


“Obviously, we are persevering, but it has impacted our spending budget quite a bit,”  explained Ferdinand. “We have certainly been in better positions to make purchases of that size. Perhaps it would be wise to wait until things have stabilized more before we go through with it.”

  
  


After conferring briefly with Seteth, Rhea folded her hands and gave a defiant chuckle. “If we’re struggling, then we have all the more reason to diversify. You needn’t worry, little one. We will handle all of the heavy lifting, while you lay back and let the money roll in. You could even work from home, like that dear father of yours has been doing.”

  
  


There was a twinge of relief in knowing that Ludwig wasn’t present at the office tonight. Ferdinand had to make an effort to chase away his fuzziness and keep a grasp on that new information. He moved to fiddle with his hair, only to be deterred by his newly short locks. Instead, he grabbed onto his pin and gave himself another round of reminders about Hubert and his careful hands. Thankfully, it worked to consistently ground him.

  
  


“I apologize,” said Ferdinand with an amiable smile. “I really think I need to put my foot down on this one. As far as I’m aware, we cannot afford this.”

  
  


Though Rhea didn’t react openly, Seteth straightened and took offense in her stead. “I was led to believe that you were not especially well-versed in the state of your inheritance.” Across from him, Flayn was making a pleading face and wincing at his venom.

  
  


Ferdinand tugged at his collar. “Well, I…”

  
  


“I am familiar with both Aegir’s and Hresvelg’s budgets,” said Dorothea, slapping a colorful folio on the table. She flipped a bright tab to a set of charts that made Ferdinand’s head whirl. “It appears that Aegir  T rust has lost quite a lot of liquid assets this year—apologies to Ferdie—to the point where such a purchase would be totally impossible. Unless, of course, the hospital is deceptively cheap.”

  
  


“What is this about?” Seteth clicked his tongue and craned to peer at the papers. “Let me see that.”  When Dorothea removed a couple of pages from the folio and slid them towards him, he snatched them and studied carefully while the other vampires peered over his shoulder.

  
  


“Here,” said Dorothea,” is a statement of Aegir Trust’s finances as of last quarter, and  _here_ is a chart I compiled from a few online sources with the prices of hospital buyouts that occurred in the past decade, with older examples adjusted for inflation. It should be apparent by now that there’s something smelly going on here.”

  
  


Seteth scoffed and flung the pages aside, only for them to be gathered eagerly by Flayn. “So, you have noticed that we are going somewhat out of budget,” Seteth jeered. “So, what? With the merger concluding before the end of the--”

  
  


“Thank you  _so_ much for bringing up the merger,” said Dorothea, manicured finger in the air. “As I’ve been involved intensely with  _both_ sides of it, I can say for sure that I know this merger inside and out.” She plucked yet another page from her documents, and Ferdinand couldn’t help but feel a little proud of his temporary assistant. “Now, you are right that seeing the merger to its end would make buying the hospital a lot easier. Here, I’ve got an estimate of the final net worth of the merged company, taking into account expenses and compiled assets. It does look like, by dipping into the shared funds, liquidating some of Hresvelg’s assets, and a little more scooting things around, you would be able to afford what you’re looking to do.”

  
  


Rhea gave a cool smile. “So, we have an agreement. I was worried--”

  
  


“I’m not quite done, ma’am.” Dorothea met Rhea’s eyes with a pointed gaze. Though Ferdinand was poised and ready to pinch her out of any potential thrall, she seemed to be just fine. Dorothea continued as she produced a densely typeset contract: “here, I have a copy of the terms of the merger. As I said, I’m  _really_ familiar with this, so I can tell you confidently what was agreed to at the start. If you take a look, you’ll see a clause stating that neither company has access to the other’s assets before the merger is concluded, unless permitted by the respective CEO or CFO.” When she slid this page over, it was skimmed with far less intensity than the charts had been.

  
  


“I think you will find that miss Hresvelg is in a perfectly agreeable position,” cooed Rhea, a finger on her cheek.

  
  


Dorothea’s eyes flashed towards the door. Beyond it, sounds of a struggle were just audible. Surely, the vampires heard, too? “What makes you so sure about that?” Dorothea asked, her hand trembling just above her documents. When Ferdinand took hold of it to settle her, he could feel that she was cool with sweat.

  
  


“Call it a vampire’s intuition,” said Seteth with smugly crossed arms, clearly proud of Flayn’s handiwork.

  
  


Dorothea was shaking harder now. “ Really, though?” she said at length as Ferdinand gave her a squeeze. There was only so much time left for stalling.

  
  


Seteth’s nostrils flared. “Come, now, this is--”

  
  


At last, Edelgard flopped through the door. The bold amber pantsuit that she wore was all but completely soaked in blackish blood, and her half-grayed hair was falling out of its bun in strands. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she cried breathlessly. Upon receiving a thumbs-up from Dorothea, she pumped a fist and straightened. Her timing hadn’t been  _perfect_ , but Ferdinand was okay with letting her believe that it was.

  
  


Edelgard propped her ax in the threshold and came in with her hands up. Dorothea hurried over to walk her to the meeting table as the vampires struggled to suppress their fury. There was a hiss from Seteth: “ _Flayn_ , I though that you had--” he bit himself off when Rhea put a hand on his arm. 

  
  


Keeping her palms open towards the vampires, Edelgard leaned clumsily across Ferdinand’s shoulders, clearly exhausted from her trip up the building. “Hubert is still on his way,” she breathed.

  
  


That confirmation put Ferdinand so deeply at ease that he barely flinched when Seteth rose suddenly from his seat, hands forming claws, clearly intent to finish what Flayn had started.

  
  


“Dorothea?” commanded Edelgard smoothly, holding out a hand. She proudly held out the document that Dorothea passed her, as though it would shield her from Seteth’s fangs. “Before she was so brutally killed,” boomed Edelgard, sucking in big breaths between words, “My friend Lysithea assisted me with updating my will. As I happen to be in a treacherous line of work, I take care to update it every couple of years.

  
  


“As you can see on this copy, in the case of my untimely death, all rights regarding my company will go to one Hubert von Vestra.” She commanded the room unflinchingly against the immortals, despite being winded. “In short,” she continued, “killing me will not get you what you want.”

  
  


Across the table, Rhea’s eyebrows arched high. It was Seteth, however, who responded: “haven’t you heard? Your  _Hubert_ \--”

  
  


“Died in our battle with that  _thing_ you sent after us?” Edelgard didn’t flinch for even a second. “You may believe that, if you wish, just like how you believed me to be dead or turned.”

  
  


The vampires were speechless. So speechless that the gentle sound of the paper hitting the table seemed to ring out. Tension set into the room, making Ferdinand slide his hand into his pocket in anticipation. He didn’t know what it would take for the vampires to resort to violence, though he wanted to be optimistic and assume that such a thing wouldn’t happen.

  
  


After a long beat, Rhea looked up from a hushed conversation she’d had with Flayn. She beckoned for Ferdinand, but her hand became a fist when he held still, patently resisting her thrall.

  
  


“Ferdinand,” said Flayn after a second, her voice like a cough she struggled to get out. “May we talk to you? Just you?” She looked at him with eyes that sparkled, sticking out among her associates who appeared openly frustrated. Her face pulled him more than a thrall ever could.

  
  


Ferdinand looked to his allies, who confirmed that they would watch his back. “Alright, we may talk in semi-private. Edelgard and Dorothea will remain while I come to you.”

  
  


Though Rhea and Seteth appeared apprehensive, Flayn hurriedly piped up: “agreed!”

  
  


An intense, irritating whirling butted its way into Ferdinand’s mind as he grew closer to the vampires. This time, however, he was prepared for the thrall to increase with proximity. He noticed the faces before him grow more friendly and beautiful as he approached, shifting like a holographic picture.

  
  


Ferdinand kept his hand in his pocket to calm his nerves and remind himself that Hubert would be here soon. He felt small before Rhea and Seteth, but, thankfully, they stayed a bit back as Flayn came to meet him. Ferdinand couldn’t help but flinch when Flayn offered her good hand to him. Knowing what she was capable of made him jumpy, despite his best attempts to remain cordial. Every time she moved, images of Lysithea’s untimely demise flashed through him. She was not to be underestimated.

  
  


Flayn cleared her throat and retracted her hand. “Ferdinand,” she said softly, “we really, really wish for you to join us.”

  
  


“I understand that,” Ferdinand said, “but, like I said, we have quite a few qualms with--”

  
  


“You’re failing to understand.” Flayn clenched her fist. “We can return the hospital, if you want, or give you full control over the company, or whatever such things will satisfy you.” As she listed offerings, Seteth visibly stiffened, but said nothing. “What we want… well, what I want, really, is to have you. I want you to really appreciate what a chance you have in your hands. This is about more than business.

  
  


“Think about it, Ferdinand. You can have everything you have ever wanted. Forever.” Flayn’s eyes were inviting, yet haunting. “It is difficult to go through, I will admit that. Especially through the first few months or so, but I promise you that I will be by your side, always, to help. It would be wasteful not to preserve you, with how stunning you are now. Though, I will be the first to admit that I wish you hadn’t cut your hair.”

  
  


Ferdinand tried to swallow back the bile that threatened to rise at the thought of dying and being forced back to life, all to be  _preserved_ . How could that ever sound appealing? “I’m not so sure…”

  
  


“Please, reconsider!” Flayn appeared to be tying herself in knots over this. “It is so rare that we would welcome an outsider into our family. The process of changing is difficult, but you are so strong! And I have gotten the approval of the others!” The way that Seteth and Rhea looked askance told him that said approval had been teased out reluctantly. “Think about it!” Flayn reached for his face, only to frown when he flinched once more. “I know it is frightening, but is the prospect of a short life not equally so?”

  
  


Ferdinand took a tiny step back, but Flayn stepped forward in response. “I am not so excited about immortality, actually,” he mumbled.

  
  


“ Why ever not? You can have your youth, your handsomeness, your status, all of them  _forever_ !”

  
  


“I don’t want any of those badly enough to be willing to die--”

  
  


“That doesn’t make  _sense_ !” Flayn threw her arm into the air, while her empty sleeve flapped in a similar arc. “You were so clearly upset when Edelgard tried to make off with your company, but now that we are giving it to you, you do not  _want_ it?”

  
  


Through Ferdinand’s fear, he had a moment of clarity in which he heard Hubert’s ramblings about eternal life, and how it stripped vampires of humanity without fail. It was starting to truly make sense, now. He squared his shoulders.

  
  


“I didn’t care about this place one lick until Edelgard threatened to remove my name from it,” he said, “and I dare say that I won’t care about it if I’m handed it on a silver plate to have forever. Without having actually earned it, or the potential to  _lose_ it if I screw it up, I fear I will be completely bored.” He thought about how he’d been before Edelgard had contacted him, and the thought of returning to that version of himself made him sick to his stomach. “It will make me forget how to appreciate things.”

  
  


Flayn’s eyes grew big as dinner plates. “You are saying that you wouldn’t appreciate being together again?”

  
  


“I, well.” Ferdinand shrunk under her stare. Dark tears threatened to fall from her waterlines. “Not if I was a vampire, no.” The black that dribbled forth from Flayn’s face only made her appear more frightening. “No, Flayn, please, this isn’t personal—”

  
  


Ferdinand gasped and leaped when she reached out to him. Maybe she had wanted a hug, maybe she was aiming to shake Ferdinand until he agreed, but he was so on edge that it made no difference. He’d moved on autopilot and before he realized it, he had a syringe in Flayn’s wrist, half-emptied into her. She and Ferdinand appeared equally surprised.

  
  


“I’m sorry.” Ferdinand tossed the syringe aside and tried to catch her as she crumpled. “I’m so sorry, Flayn. I’m sorry.” As he babbled, the sounds around him faded out. There was nothing to him except her writhing body. Such a tiny amount of blood went to work almost instantly due to her diminutive size, and her green eyes were already turning into milky cataracts. “Flayn, I didn’t mean to--”

  
  


Ferdinand was wrenched from the floor. He squinted through his tears to see Edelgard clutching him, dragging him across the room in a disorienting blur of shapes. As she tossed him towards the door, he noticed that the room was suddenly filled by a snowy mass, so enormous that it crashed through the ceiling above, sending debris crumbling to the ground.  Supplies that had long since been stashed in the ceiling tiles—knives, batons, razor wire—tumbled off of the green horns of Seteth, whose outraged screams at Ferdinand’s mistake had warped into a ferocious roar. Ferdinand had angered a dragon.


	29. Act 3 Chapter 10

Ferdinand struggled to get his bearings as Edelgard left him to get her ax at the door. From behind him, a jarring set of crunches made him whirl around. The floor where he’d just been was collapsed in where Seteth’s massive claws had impacted. As Seteth tried to pry himself from where his arms were wedged, the room trembled, sending Ferdinand stumbling to his rear.

  
  


Feeling exposed in his empty-handedness, Ferdinand scrambled on his hands and knees to where he’d dropped the dead blood, only for Seteth to whip it away with a freed claw. Ferdinand was frozen as he watched the syringe skid across the office floor, and in his hesitation, he was caught by that same claw, leaving a gash lengthwise down his arm. Vampire hunting was quickly ruining some of his best clothes.

  
  


Tumbling back and cupping a hand over his bleeding arm, Ferdinand searched for another way to arm himself. He caught the eye of Dorothea, who had gotten herself straight to the supplies that had fallen from the ceiling. She was preparing to toss him a silvered baton when the floor rumbled once more, making her slip from atop the meeting table.

  
  


Seteth was clamoring out of the hole he’d created, though his movements only caused more destruction as the glass walls of the meeting room shattered before him in his effort to dive to stable ground. His tail whipped into Ferdinand’s chest as he found his balance, knocking him soundly to the floor once again.

  
  


His fresh wound screamed where it rubbed against carpet and glass. Fighting the tears that formed in his eyes, Ferdinand stopped his tumbling dangerously close to a hole in the ground, just by Flayn’s still corpse. Though there was a part of him that knew that this day was destined to turn bloody, he knew as well that he would forever regret his rashness. It seemed that sticking around Hubert all the time had given him not just useful combat skills, but some of his paranoia, as well.

  
  


Ferdinand tensed when he remembered that the rampaging Seteth wasn’t the only adversary present. With a little searching, he found Rhea standing eerily still over Flayn’s body, hands folded behind her back. She didn’t seem to even register the chaos around her. After a moment of staring, she seemed to notice Ferdinand and look up, but it wasn’t at him; she was looking at something past him.

  
  


“Ferdinand!” He heard Edelgard’s voice before the cracking to his right. He blindly reached for where the voice came from until he found her hand, all the while keeping his eyes transfixed on statuesque Rhea.

  
  


Ferdinand felt the floor giving way beneath him as he finally allowed Edelgard to move him out of the way. The structure was facing more and more trouble as Seteth’s outrage at the sight of his lackeys’ corpses made him beat his wings furiously, sending ripples through the world around him. Edelgard all but lobbed him in the direction of the far side of the office.

  
  


“Hubert’s here,” Edelgard hollered. “He’s by the stairs!”

  
  


When Ferdinand righted himself enough to catch sight of that gloomy figure squared against the gray halls to the stairs, he couldn’t help but sigh. He crossed Dorothea, who was cradling an armful of new supplies, on his way over to Hubert. Hubert was bloodied and dirty, and that cut on his cheek had opened and was draining blood down his jaw. Below all of the grime, the whites of his eyes flashed a little bit when he saw Ferdinand.

  
  


Hubert dropped his supply bag and grabbed for Ferdinand’s arm, making him wince. “Dorothea!” Hubert called past him. “Change of plans! Help Edelgard kite the thing for a moment.” As he grabbed bandages from his bag, he hesitated for a second before calling back to Dorothea: “watch her back _carefully_! She is in no state to put herself--”

  
  


“She’s already long gone,” puffed Ferdinand. He reluctantly gave control of his bleeding arm up to Hubert. “Do you really think we have time to--”

  
  


“I’m just slowing the bleeding,” Hubert snapped. “I thought--” he stopped and yanked Ferdinand ungracefully out of the way of a hurdling desk that was flung his way. “I thought that you were going to resolve this peacefully.”

  
  


Ferdinand looked away as Hubert slung bandages around him, not eager to see the grisly, glass-speckled state of his wound. As he observed what he could of the battle, he noted that he could no longer see Rhea. “I, uh, I did,” said Ferdinand. “Things took a turn, however. My fault.” He tightened his hand into a fist as Hubert tied off the bandages. After a second, he added: “I’m really sorry.”

  
  


“At least you admit to it,” Hubert remarked snidely.

  
  


“No, not for this. I am sorry for this, but.” Ferdinand groaned, half in frustration and half from the pain of moving his arm. “I’m sorry for all of the things I said to you earlier. For being petty. I shouldn’t have tried to hurt you.”

  
  


Hubert met his eyes, stopped halfway into putting away the remaining bandages.  He set his mouth into a straight line and said nothing as he plucked a pouch from his bag and thrust it into Ferdinand’s hands, chains and pins clinking together within. “We are… using the method we discussed before,” said Hubert, his tone all business. Ferdinand was disappointed to hear no follow-up from him, but his chest did feel lighter after getting his apology out. “The one that Edelgard’s ancestors used. Ensnare its legs with these, just like Edelgard and Dorothea are already doing. Then get the chain to me. Understood?”

  
  


Ferdinand nodded, his brows set. “I think I’ve got it.” He stepped back towards the action trepidatiously, until he was stopped by Hubert’s hand on his shoulder. He spun with a rush of joy, and, though he wasn’t met with the emotions he sought, he  _was_ met with the sword. His sword. 

  
  


“Thank you,” breathed Ferdinand before whirling with renewed energy and storming the trudging claws ahead. The amount of space offered by the office forced Seteth to all-fours, allowing for many points of entanglement. Edelgard had already stuck a few chained pins between his ankles, as well as leaving a few hearty wedges from her ax. Ferdinand picked up his pace when he realized he’d fallen behind.

  
  


Ducking beneath a leathery wing, Ferdinand swiped at Seteth’s scales with his sword, which cut with ease. He drove pins into the wounds occasionally, but he was a lot more interested in how his blade seemed to think nothing of the armored surface.

  
  


From between Seteth’s legs, Ferdinand caught sight of Edelgard, breathless and sweaty, arching her ax to take a big swing at the tail. At the peak of her swing, however, her target whapped her in the chest, making her weakened arms buckle and drop the ax. Ferdinand was already heading towards where the ax fell when a claw slammed down in front of his path. He cursed to himself and sought to find his balance, despite the disorienting nature of fighting something so massive. He was frustrated with how little he could gather about what was up above; it felt like he was trying to fight a collapsing circus tent.

  
  


Edelgard was sprawled on the floor just beyond, arm outstretched towards her ax. Ferdinand saw movement above her, and called her name. She glanced up, furrowed her brow, then gasped and snatched her hand back when the claw crashed down, punching right through the floor next to her.

  
  


Ferdinand hustled to place himself between Seteth and Edelgard, sword brandished. He met Seteth as his massive head came down towards where Edelgard rolled away, blade flashing against teeth, making a sharp, sickening sound. After clashing with Seteth’s mouth for some time, Ferdinand caught an opening and drove his sword into the top of his snout, pushing through to the other side and pinning his jaws shut like a toothpick through a club sandwich.

  
  


Seteth screeched from his nose and ripped his head away, wings beating. For a second, Ferdinand held fast to his sword, but his stomach dropped when he realized how high up he was being brought. With a wince, he released his grip and dropped next to Edelgard.

  
  


Scrambling out from under Seteth, Edelgard hurried for her ax and Ferdinand found himself distracted by a glint of metal and plastic that  _had_ to be the syringe of blood. He dove low under one of Seteth’s wings and put himself behind what was once a particularly nice desk to catch his bearings and his breath. After a moment of searching, he found the syringe again, mingling among the debris.

  
  


He dashed form his cover and picked a careful path across the way, eyes set on his goal. With a tiny smile, he noted the whirling sound of arrows soaring overhead. Hubert was covering him. With renewed confidence, Ferdinand all but pranced across the shattered office. His path was laid out and perfect, until it wasn’t.

  
  


Seteth’s hulking head slammed onto the floor before him, tripping him. He fell across Seteth’s snout and met those enormous, predatory eyes of emerald for a paralyzing moment. He swallowed and slowly reached for the hilt of his sword where it protruded from Seteth’s snout before him, but Seteth snarled and raised his head suddenly. When Seteth’s head tilted, Ferdinand clamored for a handhold until he dangled from one of the angular horns, only to lose it almost immediately when Seteth dipped suddenly, sending Ferdinand lurching up just a little too close to the arc of an arrow heading to where Seteth had just been.

  
  


Ferdinand was vaguely aware of a yelled apology from Hubert as he started to fall once more. He reached for the horns again, but instead grabbed onto the cuff of a fleshy ear, which gave way and sent Ferdinand hurdling to the floor with a fistful of cartilage. The floor his Ferdinand like a truck, knocking his lungs completely empty. Still, as he stared at the ceiling above, he figured it wasn’t  _too_ far of a fall—just one story’s length. As he sat up, he couldn’t feel any breakage. 

  
  


Ferdinand noticed the chains rattling around Seteth’s legs and felt a little guilty for his relatively untouched pouch. Edelgard and Dorothea had been far more effective than him, since he’d been so focused on—right! The blood was around here somewhere…

  
  


There was a distant call from Hubert: “Brace yourselves! It’s coming down!” When Ferdinand glanced his way, he could see that he had a chain from Seteth’s legs fastened to a length that was slung pulley-style around a railing in the stairwell.

  
  


Ferdinand noted the activity for a second before absentmindedly returning to his search for the blood. If he wanted to contribute anything to this fight, he would have to get his hands on it. Had it rolled somewhere? When he ducked beneath a tunnel of debris, he caught sight of it. There was the sound of chains, and a massive thud behind as Ferdinand practically stretched his arm out of his socket in an attempt to reach the syringe.

  
  


Then there was another sound, equally enormous. A crack. And another. Ferdinand’s knees fell out from underneath him and he scrambled to hold to the section of floor that he fell past, legs dangling. He doubted that  _that_ was part of the plan.

  
  


There was a distant voice, a curse from Dorothea, who appeared to still be on this upper layer. Ferdinand searched for her as he tried to pull himself up, only to feel the wedge of floor that he was clinging to droop. He called for Dorothea in a desperate effort, but he knew that she wouldn’t be there in time for him.

  
  


Ferdinand was as prepared as he could be to tuck and roll this time. He landed on dusty carpet and collided with half of a desk, knocking his head into a swirling flash of lights for a second. He craned his neck to look overhead, where the ceiling was gone, save for a ring around the edges. On this level, human and vampire alike lay dazed among the shattered pieces of the cave-in. When Ferdinand caught sight of Dorothea overhead, he gave her a weak thumbs-up to confirm that he was at least conscious.

  
  


“ What the  _fuck_ are we going to do now?” cried Hubert from across the floor as he pulled Edelgard up to her feet. The sheer despair in his voice made Ferdinand’s heart tighten.

  
  


“We’ll figure something out!” Ferdinand hollered, noting the way Hubert visibly perked when he saw him across the white heap that was Seteth. He appeared to start towards Ferdinand when Seteth’s head emerged from the form, his jaw open from where Ferdinand’s sword had jostled out of the bottom of his mouth. The hilt still wriggled out of his snout as he parted his teeth to bite at Hubert.

  
  


When Seteth started to get to his feet, Ferdinand tossed himself onto his neck and held tight, fingers wrangled in the leather of his wing. “We aren’t giving up,” Ferdinand called as he clamored to the most stable spot he could find. “Find your bow, or something! Use everything we have!” Ferdinand swallowed when Seteth just kept rising up. With the space of two stories, he could reach his full height, and it was dizzying. Thankfully, as he tried and failed to swipe at Ferdinand with his claws, it seemed that he wasn’t flexible enough to get to him where he was now.

  
  


There was a familiar  _thunk_ when an arrow landed in Seteth’s neck, making him cringe so heavily that Ferdinand nearly fell off. From below, Hubert cried out: “alright, now, what the  _hell_ are you doing?”

  
  


“Getting my sword!” Ferdinand replied.

  
  


“What good will that do on its own?” Hubert made a worried sound as Ferdinand lost a handhold for a second on his was up Seteth’s neck. “The blood! You still have the blood, yes?”

  
  


“I’m… working on it!” Ferdinand felt a wave of embarrassment. “Just… keep distracting him so that I can climb!”

  
  


“To get your  _sword_ ?”

  
  


“Come on,” pleaded Ferdinand as he ducked below Seteth’s claw. He felt awful for managing to lose track of something Hubert had entrusted him with. “Just… ugh, alright, so I left the blood upstairs! I’m sorry!” When there wasn’t a response, Ferdinand felt heat on his face. How was he going to fix this?

  
  


Ferdinand gasped. “Dorothea! Dorothea, come here!” He twisted his neck to see her as she circumnavigated the hole in the floor. Though Seteth followed her, he halted when an arrow landed just below his eye, welling up with black blood and tears. “The blood, it’s under that desk, er, what’s left of it! Can you get it?” Ferdinand straightened and held onto Seteth’s neck with his legs so that his hands were free. “Pass it to me!”

  
  


“I… I think I see it!” Dorothea jogged the rest of the way to where Ferdinand gestured. She dropped to her knees and sifted through the debris.  Ferdinand squeaked when a claw came far too close to him. Dorothea poked out from the heap of debris and chucked a hawthorn in a flash before she dove right back to what she was doing, quicker than Ferdinand realized she could be.

  
  


When Seteth followed the hawthorn, Ferdinand came along for the ride. He dipped and held on with both hands, noting that his thighs weren’t nearly as strong as they used to be when he rode horses in his youth. None of the well-bred steeds he’d ridden had bucked anything like this, anyway. Attempting to fix his shaky grip, Ferdinand clutched the shaft of the arrow that had landed in Seteth’s neck.

  
  


Below, Ferdinand could see Hubert and Edelgard dancing below Seteth’s feet, yelling at one another with words that Ferdinand couldn’t make out. Edelgard threw up her hands as if in confusion before taking her ax and lopping off the tip of Seteth’s tail in a frustrated motion. When Seteth whirled a that, Ferdinand struggled to hold fast. He was glad that his allies were still fighting the good fight, but he would be glad if they didn’t make Seteth  _move_ so much. He was starting to feel sick.

  
  


“Ferdinand!” At Dorothea’s call, Ferdinand’s head snapped up. Across the way, she waved the syringe.

  
  


Ferdinand straightened and freed his hands. He was so shaky that he almost fumbled Dorothea’s flawless toss. The syringe bounced from hand to hand for a little too long before he got a grip on it, heaving a great sigh. “I’ve got it!” he bellowed, both to Dorothea and to Hubert below. He directed the needle at Seteth’s back. “Hubert, the blood will slow him down, right? Or will it kill him?”

  
  


“Can’t say,” came Hubert’s voice, reaching through the chaos. “It will take some time to circulate, with his size.  _Idiot_ !” When Hubert snapped, Ferdinand froze as much as he could with his quaking muscles. “It will break on the scales!”

  
  


“What?” Ferdinand gawked at the hard surface before him. Search as he might, he failed to find anywhere softer to stick the needle. That was, until a helpful arrow planted itself right next to his free hand. The shot was far too close to him for comfort, and Ferdinand knew that Hubert was showing off, but it did scare the shit out of him.

  
  


Ferdinand paused and waited for the recoil of the stinging arrow to settle before he ripped it out and drove the syringe diagonally into the soft, gray flesh below. He shoved the needle as far in as it would go, battling against Seteth’s flailing and the resistance of what seemed to be taut muscle, and once it was all the way in, he jammed the plunger down.

  
  


Seteth gave a screech so sharp that Ferdinand was surprised it didn’t shatter the windows. Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Ferdinand searched for a path down, or, even better, a path to his damned sword. He struggled to keep his bearings as wings beat furiously around him. After the broken floor flew past him, he realized that the flapping wings were not just a reaction to the shot; Seteth was going to try to rip him off one last time. With nowhere to go, Ferdinand held fast and made himself as flat as possible upon Seteth’s back.

  
  


He realized a little too late that staying put was probably the wrong thing to do. Seteth’s rise never turned into a twist, or a lurch. Instead, he just kept going up, gathering momentum until he slammed into still-whole ceiling back-first—Ferdinand-first.

  
  


The bottom layer of tiles gave way and Ferdinand felt himself crushed against the cross-beams. He let out what little breath he could in a wheezing cry, an attempt to respond to the echoes of his name called by his friends below, but his voice couldn’t come close to forming sound. When the pressure released and Seteth started to fall, Ferdinand slipped from his back like an unfastened saddle. Still air hit his face as wind, buffeting him, pulling tears from his eyes. Through his adrenaline, he had just enough time to contemplate just how much it would suck to die right now.


	30. Act 3 Finale

His landing was rough, but it wasn’t painful. There was a rather pathetic “oof” below him when he made contact with what had to be Hubert’s arms. He was aware, loosely, of Hubert landing on his rear and scooting the both of them across the floor in a hurry. Ferdinand could hear a mighty cSlrash beyond, but he wasn’t interested in anything at the moment besides the pocket of warmth that he landed in.

  
  


Slowly, Ferdinand’s mind caught up to his body. When Hubert’s arms tightened around him, no matter how sweet the intent, the beaten parts of his body lit up with pain. Hubert was saying _something_ that he couldn’t make out besides his name, as he was also trying to listen over the pounding of Hubert’s heart where his head was held to his chest. There was a taste of blood in his mouth, and a stench of it elsewhere, where the wound on his arm was starting to really seep through its slap-dash dressing.

  
  


Ferdinand tried to pull himself up out of Hubert’s grip so that he could have room to fill his lungs all the way. He was so sure that he needed the air, but when he took in a long breath, his side pinched down, hard, and he had to release the air in a sad squeak.

  
  


“You may have broken some ribs,” explained Hubert, who was at least kind enough to catch Ferdinand when he flopped back down. “You shouldn’t move around so much.”

  
  


Blinking past tears old and new, Ferdinand marveled at the flushed, concerned face of Hubert before him. Such a rare bout of vulnerability, and all it took to make Hubert wear his heart so openly was a near-death experience. Figures. Still, the sight moved Ferdinand to grab onto him by his cheeks and plant a clumsy kiss on his half-open mouth. There was a sound of surprise from Hubert, but he softened afterwards, letting Ferdinand utterly bombard him until he was finished.

  
  


Upon letting go, Ferdinand took in a breath as far as he could and grabbed hold of Hubert’s hand. “Okay,” Ferdinand huffed, “Help me up.”

  
  


“You think you’re well enough to stand.” Hubert’s soft face readily settled back into its usual sour frown.

  
  


“My legs still work, do they not?” Ferdinand pouted. “Fine, then, if you won’t help, I can get myself up.”

  
  


Hubert groaned when Ferdinand twisted off of him to get onto his hands and knees. After a second of sorting himself out, he felt a hand at his shoulder, hoisting him up gracelessly. When Ferdinand found his balance, he found Hubert already turning away, pretending as though he’d been standing the whole time. Ferdinand chuckled, then winced when it twinged his side.

  
  


“Be careful,” warned Hubert when Ferdinand shuffled towards the new hole in the floor. One story down, Seteth was crumpled, still squirming a little bit, heaving stomachfuls of black sludge onto the floor. The stench made Ferdinand want to gag.

  
  


“Is he, uh…?”

  
  


“It should be dead in a few minutes,” said Hubert flatly.

  
  


“Right. Good. That’s good.” Ferdinand perked up when he saw Edelgard picking her way across the rubble, appearing to be in an even worse shape than he. She put up a hand when Hubert moved to help her, and sat heavily on the first semi-flat surface she could find—a piece of a desk that hadn’t completely shattered.

  
  


“Lucky you didn’t fall all the way down with him,” said Edelgard, regarding Ferdinand with a weak smirk. “I thought we’d lost you for a bit.”

  
  


“Yeah,” puffed Ferdinand. “I don’t know if I would have survived going all the way… right!” Ferdinand gasped when he peered into the dark pit below and caught sight of a glint of metal among the sludge.

  
  


“And _where_ are you going in such a hurry?” snapped Hubert as Ferdinand hobbled to the stairwell.

  
  


Ferdinand paused and gave Hubert an awkward half-smile. “I still have to get my sword back.” He winced at Hubert’s dour expression. “I can handle it, promise. Besides, I would hate to leave behind such a lovely gift.”

  
  


The bashful look on Hubert’s face was something that Ferdinand would endure a million more deadly falls to see again. Flashing the tiniest wink to Hubert, Ferdinand trotted down to the floor below, hesitating when he met with the wall of stench and rot at his destination. Ferdinand braced himself, cupped a hand over his face, and waded into the sticky, bloody bile to get to Seteth’s head. He glanced up from time to time to check on his friends above, scarcely believing that things were actually over and that everyone was safe.

  
  


Ferdinand shuffled to where his blade still stuck half in Seteth’s snout, reaching out, only to leap out of his skin when he noticed that those enormous eyes were still moving. Green was just visible below slowly congealing cataracts as Seteth watched Ferdinand’s approach. His mighty head rotated the slightest bit towards Ferdinand, either an attempt to attack him through his lethargy, or to simply give him his sword so that he could be on his way already.

  
  


Ferdinand felt a pang of grief when he looked over the heap of silvery scales. There was fearsome, terrifying power before him, yes, but that didn’t eliminate the beauty to the curve of his horns and deep green of his eyes. This was a being who had lived for a long, long time, and Ferdinand wasn’t sure how he felt about being responsible for the untimely end of this and _another_ ancient being tonight.

  
  


Taking hold of the handle of his sword, Ferdinand held his breath for a moment. “I am sorry,” he said, so quiet that he wondered if those big bat-like ears would pick it up. “Sorry for being so afraid. Flayn did not deserve to die. You were justified in your rage.”

  
  


“Ferdinand, have you finished stomping around in the filthy remains?” Hubert’s voice rang from above, echoing through the now rather open-concept office building.

  
  


Ferdinand clicked his tongue and lifted the sword from Seteth, slowly and gently. “And I apologize for my companion, too. He still has a _lot_ of work to do on his manners.”

  
  


Seteth’s eyes fell shut, and it wasn’t clear whether they did so from exhaustion or out of some acknowledgment. Still, Ferdinand didn’t want to linger. He gave a small pat to Seteth’s snout before turning for the stairs, clutching his sword like it was the greatest thing in the world.

  
  


Getting back up the stairs was a lot harder than the way down, but he was buoyed a bit by his desire to show Hubert how brightly his blade still gleamed despite the grime. When he emerged at last, he was greeted by Dorothea, who had found her way down to tend to Edelgard. It was a massive comfort to have everyone together at last…

  
  


“Hey. Where’s Hubert?” Ferdinand’s chest tightened around his busted ribs. He’d only taken his eyes off of Hubert for a moment. As he scanned the floor, he caught sight of what had to be a silhouette against the far window, just visible blocking the light from the building across.

  
  


“I could have sworn I just saw him,” said Dorothea, hiking a half-awake Edelgard on her shoulder.

  
  


Ferdinand brushed off her words and made way for the shadow, sword clutched as tightly as possible where the blood dripping from his arm made his hand wet. He called out for Hubert once and again, heart drumming in his head, until he grew close enough to make out the details of the shadow. He stopped cold, though not of his own volition.

  
  


Rhea clutched a dangling Hubert by his head with one hand, looking as interested as she would if she’d just plucked a carrot from the ground. Her eyes flashed in the low light, and they held Ferdinand firmly in place. He didn’t recall the thrall being nearly this powerful during the meeting; had she been holding back?

  
  


Rhea took a step, ignoring Hubert’s struggling. “I’m impressed. You managed to defeat Seteth.” She seemed perfectly content to bitterly monologue, and there was nothing Ferdinand could do about it. “I may have underestimated the lot of you.”

  
  


Ferdinand struggled to move whatever he could, screaming commands at his toes and fingers to wiggle even just a bit. With some work, he managed to get a hold on his mouth. “Don’t hurt Hubert,” he crowed pathetically. “ _Please_.” He got some feeling in his fingers, and he could just about start to move his arms forward when he was hit with another paralyzing look.

  
  


“You have long since forfeited the option of a peaceful resolution,” Rhea spat.

  
  


Ferdinand’s mouth was wired shut once more, no matter how much he wanted to scream for Hubert. His insides felt like lead. The world was fuzzy, too bright, like his pupils wouldn’t contract against the light.

  
  


When Hubert pawed at Rhea’s wrist, she gave him a frustrated shake that forced his arms to drop. “ _You_ ,” she growled to Hubert. “You seem to be the one in the way of everything working as intended. You chased Flayn out of her wonderful job, you massacred some of my most devoted underlings, and, from what I’ve heard, _you_ were responsible for the death of my sweet, sweet Byleth.” She curled her lip, flashing her fangs. “What a pity that you didn’t perish with her like your allies claimed.”

  
  


A nasty sound came from Hubert’s throat, and Ferdinand reeled when he realized that it was laughter. “You gave that cursed thing a _name_?” he jeered, earning another dreadful shake-down from Rhea.

  
  


“Now, with you in my grasp,” said Rhea proudly, “not only can I take revenge, but it appears that eliminating you would be the last step to doing what I wish, regarding the _company_ situation.”

  
  


Ferdinand pleaded with himself to find the control he’d gotten before. He tried to ground himself, to remind himself that _Hubert was in danger_ , that if he didn’t act, he would have to watch Hubert die right here. When he pictured that, all too vividly, he felt his body lurch. His limbs buzzed and stung to the bone like they’d fallen asleep, but he could just about curl his fingers.

  
  


Ferdinand collapsed when his legs finally obeyed. He shut his eyes as he got to his feet, as if he could resist the thrall like a gorgon’s stare. “Wait, wait, wait! Before you _kill_ anyone, please!” Ferdinand floundered with his words, cracking an eyes a fraction of an inch to make sure that Hubert was still in one piece. He had to do _something_. “There’s… something you need to know about the company!”

  
  


When Ferdinand cautioned a look at Rhea, she had her free hand on her hip, finger tapping impatiently. “What,” she snapped.

  
  


As Ferdinand searched for what to say, he wondered if he’d truly played every card they had. “You can’t take the company now, because, because…” he petered off and winced before deciding to take a leap of faith. “Because, um, I need to build a fence around the building first! And… and I don’t know how much it will cost. The fence is priced per five meters, but all my measurements are in feet—I’m sure you can help me with that. Um, the building is square, and so is the one next door, and… and that one is three times the size. A right triangle bisecting that one has a hypotenuse of 102 feet…”

  
  


“Oh, my lord,” groaned Hubert under his breath, “I can’t believe you’re trying _this_ again.”

  
  


Ferdinand firmly ignored Hubert and continued, stepping slowly between each word, sword clutched. “The fence costs $75 per five meters, so, if the fence is flush to the building, how much extra would I be spending?”

  
  


Rhea’s eyes went to the ceiling. She hummed, drummed her fingers on her hip, and an answer came in a flash: “ten dollars and fifty cents.”

  
  


Ferdinand still wasn’t close enough. “You… forgot to account for sales tax!”

  
  


“Shoot! What is it here, eight percent?”

  
  


The sword swung clear and cut a deep wound into her wrist. Hubert fell to the floor and Ferdinand placed himself between him and Rhea with his sword pointed at her bloodied hand. After a short delay, she gasped, and held her hand to her chest. Fury flashed across her face, and for a brief, morbid second, Ferdinand was glad that he would die first, so that he didn’t need to watch Hubert perish.

  
  


Before Rhea could lash out, a mighty crash came from behind her. The window shattered inwards, and as she turned to face it, Ferdinand felt himself yanked back by Hubert. Ferdinand couldn’t stop watching, so Hubert had to crouch over him and shove his head down to protect him from the flying shards.

  
  


“Byleth, my dear!” Where Rhea had been nothing but icy cold before, she cried out with sheer delight now. Ferdinand wriggled against Hubert’s grasp to watch as Rhea embraced the chest of her enormous pet, where its body was still black with char from the car fire. “I was so certain you’d died,” cried Rhea to the horror, smearing black tears across its bony form. “I was _terrified_.”

  
  


Ferdinand gawked at the baffling scene before him, walking corpse and ancient being embracing tearfully. He felt Hubert’s protective grip tighten up, and, with a sigh, he pulled Hubert into his lap and brushed some glass from his back. He was glad that he had at least a moment to enjoy an embrace; he knew that he couldn’t sweet-talk that Byleth thing with math.

  
  


Rhea released her pet at last, making an expression that Ferdinand couldn’t parse. The malice in her eyes had melted into something more dazed and contemplative. Her eyes wandered across the pit that held Seteth’s body, to where Dorothea and Edelgard were hunkered down, back to Byleth, then, at last, to Hubert and Ferdinand. She held Ferdinand’s gaze for a while, only breaking to watch his hand as he smoothed down a bloody cowlick on Hubert’s head. His instincts told him to run, but he was too tired, too battered to do anything but cradle Hubert.

  
  


After a long moment of held breath, miraculously, she turned away. She muttered something quietly to her Byleth, who crouched low to let her climb atop like a horse rider. She cast a final look across the humans before Byleth beat its wings and soared through the busted window, leaving the space in stunning silence.

  
  


“Hubert,” Ferdinand whispered, as if speaking too loud might make her return. “Hubert, she’s gone.”

  
  


Hubert took in a breath and straightened up. “What?”

  
  


“She just left,” said Ferdinand, creaking to his knees. “I couldn’t tell you why.”

  
  


“She left,” repeated Hubert absentmindedly.

  
  


Ferdinand brushed himself off and offered a hand to Hubert, who declined politely. “Well,” puffed Ferdinand as he retrieved his sword, “you should have more faith in my methods from now on, since my arithnomania theory just saved your life.” He expected a jab back, but Hubert appeared too dazed to respond. Ferdinand smiled and gave Hubert a pat. “You are welcome, by the way.”

  
  


“So,” sighed Dorothea as she carried Edelgard across the way, “what now?” She eyed the outline of the window as if it would bite her.

  
  


“I guess we clean up,” said Ferdinand. “Then we try to get our lives back on track. Is Edelgard doing alright?”

  
  


Edelgard raised her head just enough to meet Ferdinand’s eyes. “I will be fine.”

  
  


“Good, good.” Ferdinand tapped his sword on the ground shyly. “Say, Edelgard, would you be okay working under the Aegir name, after the merger?”

  
  


Edelgard gave a pathetic chuckle. “You’ve more than earned it.”

  
  


Ferdinand grinned so wide that his cheeks ached, which meant that he was now truly sore on every inch of his body. “That I did,” he chirped.

Ferdinand startled somewhat when he felt a hand at his back, so light that it was barely there. When he turned, Hubert appeared as surprised as he was about what he was doing. “I should. Ah.” Hubert cleared his throat. “I haven’t… I would like to…” he paused, groaned, and shook himself. “I have been meaning to apologize. Properly, this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check in tomorrow for the short epilogue!! Thank y'all so much for reading!


	31. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue

“So,” panted Ferdinand, hands splayed across Hubert’s back, “do you finally understand the appeal of the heated floors?”

  
  


Hubert groaned from where his face was pushed cheek-first against the tile. “You shut the _fuck_ up,” he hissed. Though Ferdinand laughed at his embarrassment, he petered off when Hubert unceremoniously bucked him off of his back, sending him toppling to the floor.

  
  


“Language,” jeered Ferdinand as he sat up on his knees and pushed a few strands of sweat-damp hair from his forehead. He swore that the short strands were far more unruly than his long hair had ever been. Sighing, he propped his chin on the side of the bathtub and watched as Hubert hurriedly toweled off his flushed body.  “You know,” said Ferdinand, not excited about ruining a perfectly good towel, “you could always just hop back into the shower.”

  
  


It was likely that Hubert was looking to glare more threateningly than was possible while he was nude and ruffled. “Yes, in fact, I could, but you would be surprised to discover that the water is running cold, because  _someone_ just couldn’t wait.”

  
  


“Funny,” said Ferdinand, “I could have sworn that it was you who begged me to join.”

  
  


The sticky towel whapped across Ferdinand’s face with a fierceness unrivaled by even the most prolific of vampire hunters. With an unbecoming squeal, Ferdinand squirmed away from the attack and fervently fluffed his hair to free it from any stray mess.

  
  


“You could always just  _hop in the shower,_ ” Hubert snided as he stepped into his pants, foregoing underwear in a maneuver that pulled Ferdinand’s attention.

  
  


Ferdinand shook himself from his staring when Hubert buttoned his pants. “I must warn you: the day that you get  _cum_ in my hair is the day that I return to the bank.”

  
  


“How noble.”

  
  


“In fact, I may have to hunt  _you_ down in such a case. You’re practically more of a menace than the vampires.”

  
  


Hubert buttoned his shirt about halfway before seeming to give up, leaving a little triangle of dark hair for Ferdinand to glimpse. Goodness, if watching Hubert dress was as enticing as watching him undress,  there was a chance they may get caught in an endless loop.

  
  


The flat, intense stare of Hubert reminded Ferdinand just how naked he still was. “If you intend to hunt me,” Hubert mused, “might I suggest moving a little faster?”

  
  


Ferdinand was left cold as Hubert headed to the bedroom. In a huff, Ferdinand tidied himself and moisturized the poor, cracked parts of his skin that were forming from his time in the field. He slung a fresh towel around his waist, figuring that he hadn’t a need to really clothe himself while alone with Hubert. The towel served only really as a way to keep him from being a tremendous distraction and, perhaps so that he could have the joy of  _ uncovering _ later on.

  
  


The bedroom was far, far darker than the bathroom; Hubert had closed the hefty curtains that Ferdinand had propped open. Was it any wonder why he appeared so vampiric when they first met? Ferdinand poked around the dim room to the shadow of Hubert, perched on the bed, noting the backlight beyond him that came from the screen of his cell phone.

  
  


There was a choked sound from Hubert as Ferdinand set himself behind him, hands on his shoulders. At first, Ferdinand retreated at the noise, but Hubert shook his head and tugged him back. “No, no, not you,” he said. “Relax.” He held up his cell phone to show Ferdinand that he’d gotten three missed calls and five texts from Edelgard.

  
  


Ferdinand made a sound that matched Hubert’s. “How long were we in there?”

  
  


“Too long,” mumbled Hubert as he hastily dialed Edelgard.

  
  


“And here I thought it was a little too quick.”

  
  


Hubert made a face as he put the phone to his ear, shouldering Ferdinand off of him only for Ferdinand to instead take up the spot next to him, head cocked to hear the other end of the line. “Edelgard,” said Hubert urgently as soon as the ringing stopped. “I apologize--”

  
  


“Hubie! You finally called!” came the chipper voice on the other end.

  
  


“Dorothea.” Hubert sagged.

  
  


“Yeah, well, you  _ just _ missed Edie, unfortunately. No biggie, just.” There was a fuzzy noise as Dorothea seemed to suck in a breath through her teeth. “You know, she  _ did _ say this was the only daytime slot she had open, and you  _ did _ say that you could make it.”

  
  


Hubert’s free hand made a claw on his knee. “I was preoccupied--”

  
  


“You were doing the hanky panky with Ferdie.”

  
  


Hubert bunched his shoulders up, and Ferdinand had to cover his mouth to hide the snort that came at that. He shrunk when Hubert glared, and tried to stroke his back a bit to quell his bristling.

  
  


“I was  _ preoccupied _ ,” repeated Hubert at length, his tone absolutely betraying the truth. “As for checking in, I am sure we can reschedule--”

  
  


“Ope, hold that thought,” Dorothea chirped. “You’re a lucky, lucky man, Hubert, and not just because you got your hands on a nice piece of ass--”

  
  


“Thank you,” chimed in Ferdinand, fully aware that she knew he was there.

  
  


“Welcome, Ferdie.” There was a beat as Dorothea climbed back onto her train of thought, during which Hubert was serving up the dirtiest look imaginable. “The reason your lucky, Hubie, is because Edie  _ just _ got out of her meeting a little early! Better put your big boy pants on, ‘cause I’m handing it over.”

  
  


At this point, Ferdinand was fighting a losing battle trying to knead away the tension in Hubert’s shoulders. He wondered if Hubert would ever get used to the idea of being a little in trouble with Edelgard once in a while. He couldn’t be at her every beck and call anymore, not while he was out here with Ferdinand.

  
  


“Hubert,” came Edelgard’s voice through the receiver. She sounded a little tired, but altogether far stronger than she’d been the last time Ferdinand had heard her. “I’m glad I could catch you. I must admit, I was getting a little worried.”

  
  


“I understand your concern,” said Hubert stiffly, cocking his head when Ferdinand pressed some fingers into his neck in an attempt to force him to relax. “I assure you, though, I was perfectly safe.”

  
  


“Really? What had you so busy, then?”

  
  


Hubert cleared his throat, his discomfort likely not helped by Ferdinand’s starting to toy with his hair. Though he looked askance, he did nothing to stop Ferdinand. “I, well,” he muttered into the receiver, “nothing important.”

  
  


That comment earned an attack from all fronts as Ferdinand yanked on Hubert’s ear and Edelgard posited a firm, “nothing  _ important _ ?”

  
  


Hubert clapped a hand over his now rather warm ear. “I don’t mean to say that I would forgo our appointments for something  _ unimportant _ . I was simply… ah.” He made a face like he was swallowing a large pill. “I was busy with Ferdinand at the time. In the shower. My apologies.”

  
  


“How honest of you,” remarked Edelgard. “Now, I don’t have much time, so I’m going to put you on speaker while I sort through my things, if you’ll excuse me.” There was a shuffle on the other end as she set down the phone.

  
  


“Hey again, Hubie!” chirped Dorothea.

  
  


“Miss Arnault,” Hubert said through his teeth.

  
  


“Ouch! Watch your tone when you address a future CEO!”

  
  


Hubert shivered, though whether it was from the conversation or from Ferdinand trailing a finger across his fuzzy chest was unclear. “So… we are still going with that plan?”

  
  


“Dorothea is perfectly capable,” said Edelgard. “I haven’t much I can really teach her, now. By the time the merger is done, she will be just as ready as I was when I took on my first company.” As the conversation carried on, Ferdinand busied himself plucking at the buttons of Hubert’s shirt. It wasn’t that he was  _ bored _ , but he was certainly more interested in his new boy toy than he was in business at this point. He didn’t think that he was ever going to hear Hubert finally accept responsibility and pursue a relationship, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to appreciate it.

  
  


“No, since I must ask,” continued Edelgard, “how is your pursuit going?”

  
  


“Difficult,” said Hubert frankly, swatting at Ferdinand’s hand but otherwise putting up no resistance. “Many of our potential leads were part of the bloodbath at the ritual, so the population of beasts in the area is thinned significantly. Usually, Ferdinand’s hound leads us to isolated cabins full of game hunters, or beast remains that have been scattered by coyotes.”

  
  


“I see,” hummed Edelgard.

  
  


When Ferdinand leaned forth to plant a kiss on Hubert’s exposed chest, Hubert’s weakly protesting hand settled on the back of Ferdinand’s neck. “We aren’t completely wasting our time combing the area, however,” continued Hubert. “Many of the people living out here are ill-equipped to handle beasts, and the ones that we’ve picked off seem to be aware of this.”

  
  


There was a noise on Edelgard’s side that was neither affirmative or negative. “As for the news on my end…”

  
  


It was around this point that Ferdinand stopped paying so much attention. He curled himself in Hubert’s lap, his hair wetting the fabric as he nuzzled into the cozy scent. His hand stayed on Hubert’s chest, where he traced marks he’d left earlier in the day and felt the vibrations whenever Hubert spoke up, his contributions to the discussion often a simple “yes, Edelgard,” or “understood.”

  
  


There was a little quiver in Hubert’s abdomen when Ferdinand rolled to kiss down the shape of his happy trail. A hand appeared on Ferdinand’s forehead and Hubert loudly cleared his throat. “I’m… I apologize, Edelgard, would you repeat that?”  Despite his warning stare, Ferdinand had no intention of changing course.

  
  


Hubert’s hand turned into a fist, gripping Ferdinand’s hair but not actively pulling him away. He carried on talking, his voice impressively formal, though it wavered noticeably when Ferdinand decided that the fly on his pants no longer needed to be done.  Without any extra barrier, Ferdinand was able to dive in and make some impressive work with his mouth before Hubert yanked him off at last with a furious huff.

  
  


“I truly shouldn’t keep you any longer, Edelgard,” said Hubert, his breath short. “ I know how busy you are.” He frowned at Ferdinand, who was biting back a chuckle.

  
  


“I’m not going to disagree with you,” came Edelgard’s voice through the receiver, “but I would like to remind you that I want you to be focusing on the right things out there. You’re on a mission, not a honeymoon.”

  
  


Hubert waved off the sour face Ferdinand made at that. “Absolutely, Edelgard. You needn’t worry.”

  
  


“Good. We will talk again soon, then.”

  
  


“Yes, yes, goodbye.” With the cell phone tossed aside, Hubert regarded Ferdinand with a glare so intense that his eyes may as well have been glowing. “There has been a sighting near the East coast of flying beasts,” he described coldly. “We have no guarantees that it’s her and her  _ thing _ , but it’s something big, nonetheless.”

  
  


Ferdinand batted his eyelashes and set his hands on Hubert’s crossed arms. “You’re not angry at me, are you?”

  
  


“Oh, I’m justly furious,” Hubert hissed, though his arms slowly acquiesced to Ferdinand’s prying. “You know fully well that both of them were aware of your presence. You hardly had them fooled.”

  
  


Ferdinand hummed and climbed into Hubert’s lap, allowing his towel to slink off on the way. “Which is exactly why they should know that you’re a very busy man with very important business to attend.”

  
  


Hubert’s shoulders hunched as Ferdinand slid his shirt off. “I probably should not have called you  _ unimportant _ ,” he sighed. “However, I should expect that even you know that sex should take a back seat to our goals.”

  
  


“Don’t rush so much,” cooed Ferdinand. “I’ll be Rhea is still licking her wounds.” He kissed Hubert’s shoulder, neck, cheek, mouth…

  
  


“What wounds?” Hubert scoffed.

  
  


Ferdinand sighed and nipped playfully at Hubert’s ear. “Work with me here, Hubie.”

  
  


The line that Ferdinand’ s tongue drew along the curve of Hubert’s ear  seemed to drain out all of his tension. “We really ought to be gearing up to leave soon. She won’t stay still long.” Ferdinand’s only counterargument was his teeth. Hubert groaned and tugged him closer. “We will… we will leave in the morning. How does that sound?”

  
  


“Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for reading this!!! I'm eternally grateful for the absolutely incredible comments y'all left on here, and I'm so excited to move on to my next project.  
> If you wanna hear about other news about my writing, including potentially some original stuff, follow me on twitter @ skitty427


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